#but then when i take friends by their word that i can always talk to them and open up and say that i need them

[kooyabooya]

PURITIES, IMPURITIES

yunjin & kazuha x m reader

31k words

Alright - this is kind of one of those cliché, freeze-frame moments from those sitcoms that puts you right in the middle of the action, or- when you wake up with a pounding headache of hangover after having an apocalyptic night out and somehow everything you’re trying to remember is nothing but a complete blank. 

Yunjin sells the part right away, groggily after waking up saying: “God, can you believe what the hell happened last night?” 

Sadly, you don’t recall it from the get go. 

Kazuha’s body curling the pillow serves as the first piece of information at the scene of the crime: your bed. 

“She’s gonna give us an earful of this when she's up,” you say. “We’d be lucky if she’s in a good mood by then.” 

“There’s nothing to freak out about,” and Yunjin’s reassurance gives you a warming glimmer of hope. “I’ll tell you this. She came to me, first.” 

“Are we talking back then or earlier?” 

Yunjin slaps your arm, laughing. She’s aware that the inquiry was entirely rhetorical, a minor press to her buttons. Her thumb rubs Kazuha’s temple, moving a few strands of messy hair away from her face. Bright rays of sunlight breaking through the drapes and the evidence is riddled all over her: the marks, the dry streaks of cum at her legs, sweat glistening across her skin. Your mental checklist is filling up by the minute. 

“To be fair,” and it’s a realization to be made: “She did ask for this.” 

“Yes," Concurs Yunjin. "Yes she did.” 

–

Let’s summarize it like this: post-grad life is absolutely no joke. 

Your realization of this has been deeply humbling. 

And you’re reminded, again - from one of your friends who’s on the same boat as you: taking things day by day is always the way to go, don’t ever forget that. 

It sounds easier said than done. 

The lovely chime of the lock popping out from its hole plays a nice tune of pomp and circumstance, your humble abode of trinkets and gadgets and items greeting you a ‘welcome home!’ after a long day of work. It’s worth noting: you’re not actually working - not yet, but the job search in the pool has been quite dry. 

You sigh, get your shoes off at the doorstep, and toss your jacket on the nearby chair you lay your eyes on. 

When you finally hobble over to the couch, Yunjin appears right on cue; half hair up, half down, fresh out of the shower and in one of your shirts. You know her schedule by heart: the day was Thursday, which meant that she was out for a pickleball run with Somi and Giselle who convinced her to give the sport a try. She had some prior experience with tennis, so most of the skills easily transferred over. Talk about being multi-talented. 

“Hey,” she greets, tapping your thigh as a signal to give her some space on the seat. “Long day today? 

“Yeah,” you say, rubbing the sleepiness off your face and graze your thumb on the top of Yunjin’s thigh. “Nothing much to report- oh. I managed to get a callback from that one place I told you about last week.” 

“The start up Sian’s working in? Any good news?” Her voice lights up in excitement, brows elevated and head at an angle like a golden retriever. “I thought that place was only fifth in your options.” 

“It was, but figured that I’d work backwards on the list from bottom to top.” 

Yunjin smirks, nails to your knuckles, tic bouncing off her tongue, agreeing. “What an innovator.” 

“A different angle,” you laugh, “Worth giving it a try.” 

“We all have to start somewhere,” she tells you, voice light-hearted and calming. “Besides, life isn’t a linear graph that one follows. Everybody has their ups and downs they don’t want to admit.” 

She does have a point, so you nod. 

“Don’t be discouraged if there’s no results right away,” she adds on, lifting her hand up for you to momentarily give you a handshake as if she was your brother or something, curling your fingers with hers before ending it off with the pull down, gently slapping your cheek to force a smile out of you. Yunjin’s got all the remedies you can ask to boost your mood up, no point arguing otherwise. “You also said that you didn’t like the one other place second on your list.” 

“That cafe would be nice. Can finally cross off how to make the perfect matcha drink, too,” you reply, sitting up and sliding your arm across her waist, bringing her closer. 

“Mhm,” she hums, smiling the more she leans into your touch. If there was anything that you know very well to do: is how easily it is for her to let these things slide - more so like you can literally sweep her off her feet and suck the life out of her, without having the guilt lingering whatsoever. She’s so agonizingly pretty in your eyes and the fact she can say some of the coolest things in her perspective about life because she realizes that it cuts both ways. You could listen to her talk smart all day, until she plays into the dirty ditz where it gets closer to one familiar end far faster than you would like to admit. “I’ll say this compliment, then: you already have the best cup of coffee in town,” Yunjin says, a smirk with a chin lifted up and your tongue pressing the inner side of your lip. Her gaze goes hazy, and the half-lidded eyes coming from you really sends the message either way. “I actually like the whole package you’re selling. It’s sweet.” 

“You think of me as sweet? I guess so too.”

“That’s not the only thing sweet about you,” says Yunjin, palming your crotch and scratches the fabric, her breath at your teeth. “You’re dangerous.”

“Jen, what are you trying,” you chuckle, slow and low; the tone like you’re wanting to find something without putting too much force into suspicion. “Need I remind you that you were almost late to practice earlier?” 

As Yunjin bites her lip at the lean in, only to be interrupted by the same chime at the door. A second later, the sound gets replaced by another girl’s huff, keys jangling and boots clattering on the floor before making their way further into the apartment. Both of you look towards her direction out of curiosity. 

“Back already, Zuha?” Yunjin asks, leaning out more to the point she’s almost perpendicular to the seat of the couch, “How’d the hair appointment go?” 

“Good!” Kazuha beams, shrugging off her handbag and straightening her denim jacket outshined by her new color of hair - she mentioned it in the group chat between you three with a picture of her head wrapped up in tinfoil, so the input paid off. “Thought it would take longer, but I really like this shade much more than the blonde I had a year ago.” 

“Oh god,” you breathe, “I can’t stress how much I hated the blonde shade back then.” 

Kazuha’s brows crinkle, lips inward. She doesn’t want to admit it herself, but she did say her blonde hair wasn’t the right choice. “Dickhead. I thought I told you to take that opinion outside.” 

“I’m not going to apologize for saying what’s right.” 

“Guess I don’t have to ask you what you think about my hair and go directly to Yunjin instead.” 

“Ash blonde is more of your style, Kazuha,” you admit, Yunjin also agreeing with a little nod of her own. “If you were to ask me, I’d prefer this one over the blonde you had from last year.” 

“He does have a valid reason,” Yunjin adds, palm to your chest when she stands up from the couch with a water bottle in her hand from the table. Tosses it towards Kazuha who catches it without an issue. “You staying in or stopping by tonight?” 

Kazuha chugs half the bottle down, smacks her lips soon after. “Got an hour to chill, told Saku and Chaewon we’re eating out tonight. Since Sakura’s boytoy leaves tomorrow to-” 

“Study abroad,” you input, “I remember she was talking to me about him a few weeks ago.” 

“So no more dick for me or her,” Kazuha says. 

“You’re serious,” you say back. “Dude.” 

Kazuha twists her face, hands wrapped tighter around the plastic. “Dude. It is serious. A total loss for the home team.” 

“He wasn’t even your boyfriend to begin with.” Yunjin butts in, almost ad-libbed. 

“That’s what makes it fun!” 

“This girl can’t be helped,” Yunjin, shifting her attention to the cutting board of chicken and vegetables. “Sucks for her to be put out of commission all because she can’t get her pussy filled up this weekend.” 

“I heard that, bitch.” Kazuha yells deep in the hallway. “Why don’t you tell Chaewon while you’re at it too with her boyfriend.” 

You laugh at the annoyance Kazuha has in her voice. Yunjin rolls her eyes and wheels around in the kitchen. The pair part ways into doing their own activities around the place and that’s really the end of that. There’s a sense of comfort you find yourself in within these walls. When the world outside you doesn’t swing the way you want it to, it’s always nice to lay back and relax - save the problems of today to tomorrow. You lace your fingers together, put them over your waist and cross your ankles up to the armrest, closing your eyes.

“I’ll be here,” you’re saying aloud, a usual announcement during these hours: “Wake me up when the food’s ready, or if Kazuha leaves, whichever happens to come first.” 

–

Among the never ending loop of emails, interviews, and outings at different food spots to brush up the resume, you’re getting sick and tired of the daily activities as a whole. You’re doubtful, like a running inside joke you’re not in on. 

You tell Yunjin about the struggles, to which she tells you: “there’s no such thing as mistakes in a plan that’s meant for you, babe.” God bless her, the literary ability this woman has reminds you again as to why she wanted to be an english teacher or writer. Hell, philosophy might’ve been her forte, but it’s another debate topic to save for later. 

Kazuha’s outlook is a bit more abrasive; more real and a little less innocent, doesn’t mince her words at all. “Look, I know we give much shit between us at times,” she blurts out on a random afternoon, “but I think those people who do the hiring don’t know what you’re capable of yet, and it angers me about them not caring about you.” 

“Didn’t think you’d have the heart to say that to my face.” 

Kazuha squints, confused. Yunjin looks up from her book, eavesdropping. 

“If we’re being honest,” Kazuha continues with a wave of her hand. “this is basically like you getting me through college apps back in senior year, me having the breakdowns on a nightly basis because you shat on my essays being complete trash-” 

“Somewhat relevant, yes. Still isn’t as close to what I feel.” 

Ever since graduation (and even before then), the pair have gotten used to each other in no time flat. Yunjin eventually had to end the lease on her apartment at the beginning of summer and it was a no brainer when you popped the question of moving in. They both have similar tastes, similar styles - the list goes on and on. But hey: two of the hottest girls on campus are living with you and every time someone brings it up you just give them a shrug. 

(The non-verbal message presents itself like it’s no big deal. 

Or one quiet way of answering: ‘fuck you, stay out of my business’.)

Yujin closes her book and treats herself to the cup of tea on the table. “It’s pretty much a similar experience across the board, no need to overcomplicate it.” 

You check your phone with the same kind of energy in receiving a text. Quick skim here, no luck. “Whoopty-fucking-do, still no message back from Minnie about the software position.” 

“No stress babe, it’s Friday night after all.” 

“I’d text her personally to see if there’s any hold up, rush the process a bit.” Kazuha suggests. 

You pull your lip. “I could, but what do you want me to do? It’s not my fault that the job market and economy as a whole is in shambles, toying with the idea of teasing me like it’s some ‘will they, won’t they’ kind of situation. But seriously-” and here your hands are in your face in a small sign of frustration, “it’s a bit discouraging on the latter when I could be spending my time on-” 

“Pressure isn’t a good look on you,” Kazuha tuts, snorting. She reclines back on the seat, sliding her heels on the floor, “I’m sure someone will swoop you on their ship sooner or later. The strategy here is just sit and wait, taking into account the number of places you dropped by today and they can’t look at the CV the moment you hand it to them. Ever heard the saying: “Rome wasn’t built in a day?” 

“Classic for the kids.” Yunjin recites, hands bracing her chin. “Patience is always the everlasting virtue.” 

“Both of you are dead last in lecturing me about practicing a positive mindset.” 

Here they laugh in midst of deliberation. Because Yunjin’s shaking her head while Kazuha’s turning her attention away to something that isn’t on you. The heat starts to rise on your face in embarrassment. Yunjin’s gaze lowers on Kazuha as she crosses her arms, fingers tapping along the opposite limb, sharing the same look before she looks over to you once again. Silence fills the table for a moment until Kazuha’s phone vibrates on the table, prompting her to swipe it off the surface and check the notifications in mere milliseconds. 

Kazuha’s eyes briskly shimmers from the screen, face lighting up once she’s finished reading. “Oh shit,” she breathes. “I forgot I was going out with Sakura tonight.” 

“Where to this time?” 

“Eunchae’s,” she answers, briskly standing up and typing her life away. “Just a quick outing, doughnut run, nothing too big. Yunjin, you still coming?” 

“Can’t.” Yunjin yawns. “Tired and plus I had a movie date planned with this one,” she says with a head bob towards you. 

“Ew- gross,” Kazuha mutters. You look at her dumbfounded while Yunjin smirks. “Whatever, enjoy your impromptu movie date.” 

“Prayers up for the dick that’s about to cross paths with you,” you remark over your shoulder. “Whoever’s the lucky one to bend you over tonight, I’ll drink to that too.” 

Kazuha smacks your head then walks away. “I’ll take that same fucking bottle when I come back and smash it over your head.” 

“Ouch.” Yunjin sighs, putting on her glasses and stretching. “I’ve been telling you it’s a lost cause for her.” 

“Hey. That’s her problem, not mine.” 

–

Kazuha’s problems, whether you like it or not, usually end up becoming yours. 

Not that it’s her fault or anything. The girl just spills out one word and it turns into a never ending ramble of sentences. 

Fifteen minutes have passed since dinner, for the ones who are curious - fifteen minutes of valuable time lost in Kazuha’s eyes because she can’t seem to get her life together when it comes to proper efficiency. You and Yunjin are bundled up on the couch, watching some dating series on netflix that’s been all the rage across social media. The cast upon preliminary assessment are all attractive - some with a stronger bias than others, but you deduced Yunjin’s opinion was much more important than what’s happening on screen. 

Self-insertion is a matter of conceptual perspective, is what she’s trying to tell you. 

“All I’m saying is-” she groans after your pitiful laugh, “we put ourselves in that scenario, and I guarantee the ratings would go up.” 

“Pretty high pedestal you’re putting me there,” you comment. 

Yunjin slaps your shoulder and gawks at you, playfully offended. “Oh please, if you didn’t take me to paradise, how else would you make your case compared to the other good looking guys?” 

“Don’t need to, since I’ve already got you.” 

She coos at the remark, laughing at you playing it off in the coolest way imaginable. It’s cringy, but who the fuck cares? The fact that she agrees with the statement only solidifies the pull you have on her. A win-win situation. 

“What about Kazuha?” Yunjin follows up shortly after. “I think she’d be a great fit there.” 

“If I were one of the guys on that show and she was one of the contestants, I’d try everything to date her in a heartbeat,” you tell her. 

“Really?” 

“Really.” 

“Really what?” Kazuha walks in a second after your reply, with a zip-up to her frame and peeping over to see what was on the screen. “I heard my name down the hallway.” 

“Oh nothing, Zu,” answers Yunjin, waving her hand to shoo her off. “We were just saying that you’d be a great addition to the dating show cast. I can’t lie, some of the guys in this are super hot.” 

“Ahem,” you cough. 

“Shut up,” Yunjin says. “You were literally just telling me that you’d date Kazuha if you had the chance.” 

“Never in a million years,” you hear Kazuha say, disgusted. “That can of worms stays shut for a reason.” 

“A fun topic to talk about,” you’re laughing out loud again, shaking your head. Kazuha squints her eyes and her lips are spread wide in annoyance. A common expression she does whenever she can’t comprehend the bullshit coming out of your mouth at times - for most occasions is all sarcasm and nothing more. “You may not like it, but who’s living with who here, hm?” 

“I’ll kick your ass again if I have to,” Kazuha chuckles - a tilt of her head to keep it subtle, but you know well she intends that. 

you say

“Can’t beat my ass if you haven’t gone out yet,” you retort, pursing your lips. Kazuha glances at the clock and realizes what time it was, cursing under her breath. She shoves a hand in her pocket and bolts for the door, throwing up a peace sign to you and Yunjin, letting you both know she’s finally on her way out. 

“Bye Zuha, have fun!” Yunjin yells in a light tone.

“Don’t burn the place down until I get back, but the noise complaints are fine,” Kazuha says, slotting herself through the door the next second, into the cold. 

–

“That girl with the dark blonde hair looks like Kazuha,” Yunjin tells you, pointing at the screen. She’s right. The one on the show appears to be at the right height, similar body build, not to mention the abs highlighted from her swimsuit. “I’m telling you, it’s a carbon copy.” 

It’s been a little over an hour since Kazuha left, maybe more - you haven’t been keeping track, really. The episodes and runtimes are starting to mesh together to the point where Yunjin’s starting to get other ideas with that mischievous hand of hers, working at your shorts. 

“She’s hella popular with the others - so you might be right, considering Kazuha’s the mix of an extroverted introvert,” you say, paying no attention to the slip of Yunjin’s hand into your boxers, fingers snaking the length. She can feel you getting hard. 

You’re on the same wavelength as Yunjin: hand trailing up her thigh, thumb and index pinching the waistband of her panties beneath the blanket before curling your fingers across the fabric, hearing a hitched breath. 

“There’s no way they don’t hook up while recording, right? Like- the fuckable scales are off the charts,” she assesses, squirming her hips to the fingers circling over her clothed clit. She cocks her head as you pull your lips inward, trying to see the transmitting message in her eyes. 

You press a little further in at the opening, feel the dampness spread across. Oh yeah, she’s soaking them. 

“We wouldn’t know, per se, since the whole point of inferno is all about exclusivity. Getting to know the person without any outside distractions, that kind of thing,” you conclude. You’re paying more attention to your hand than the show. 

“Them having sex on camera would be so normal,” Yunjin says, a word slips out but her mouth forms to something else when you slip a finger inside without a warning. “So normal.”

“You’d be right.” 

“Definitely,” she breathes and it’s heavy. This segment has been slowly building in the background; the part where few words are said and relied more on the action: Yunjin’s thumb presses down on the head of your cock and grips around it, languidly stroking; your breathing stops for a moment, bobbing the air down your throat, coming up with a proper response, ending with nothing. You can feel your lower body tense and relax with the ticks of the clock, an indicator for what’s about to happen if you keep this up. You don’t fight it - nor want to, since you’re both well aware that the teasing is a better way to eat up the time with your bodies rather than everything else. 

It’s only natural to do things like these. You’d always make time for being horny. 

Before you know it, your shorts are on the floor. The same could be said with her panties, tossed away to a corner in the room for you to ask yourself “well how the fuck did that get there?” later when the damage has been done. Her shirt’s being held up by her teeth and you’re taking all the sights of her upper half uncovered past her shirt. Nothing but porcelain skin and amber nipples waiting to be marked up and bitten. Your hips get put in place and your mouth is taken over by Yunjin’s, feeling the glide of her folds across your cock and the slickness of her cunt on your fingers, smearing her thigh. 

Her breath is warm, just like her face; mouth hung open when she settles her pussy on your shaft. She finds joy in the loose and unraveling expressions: all wide-eyed and nowhere else to go. Your head falls back once the grip registers in the nerves. 

All in the rise and fall of her hips. She’s gyrating them as a test like it’s a given - which it is. She loves it when you’re raring to go, dicking her hips down or fucking herself on your cock. It’s all the same. 

“Babe,” she whispers into your ear. The blanket uncovering your lower halves, barren skin now out to the open air. “I want it.” 

Fuck, she could meet you halfway with the wetness of her pussy and already be there. You hold her hips and waist steady and she begins to ride. 

–

Here is where the story - or rather, the ordeal - truly unravels. As Anakin Skywalker famously declares on the glowing screen before the darkened room: ‘This is where the fun begins.’

You’re woken up to the incessant buzzing of your phone on the nightstand, blinded by the glare of the television, drowsy as fuck, and slightly sweating. You also don’t even bother looking at the time because your lock screen is basically a flashbang of your selfie with Yunjin even with the caller ID blurring it. It’s from an unknown number (it isn’t but you can barely see as it is) and even if you’re entertaining the idea of not answering it, you do anyway. 

“Hello?” Your voice graveled and deep, clearly tired. “Who is this?” 

“Oh, you’re Yunjin’s boyfriend, right?” The girl on the other end asks. Her voice is surprisingly masculine. You would���ve mistaken her for a guy in that case. The line goes quiet for a few seconds, afraid that she possibly called the wrong number. “You sound like Yunjin’s boyfriend. By the way, it’s Eunchae.” 

Crap, you remember that Kazuha was with her for tonight’s activities. Wondering what the hell happened this time for her to call instead of Sakura as the usual standby. 

“We have a situation here,” she continues, mouth ticked with a hint of annoyance. “Kazuha’s hammered and Sakura’s getting her business on with some guy out in the alleyway. Told me to call you if she didn’t come back in five minutes. And it’s been more than five minutes.” 

“Shit, I didn’t think it’d be that serious.” 

“The fuck were you expecting?” 

“I dunno- just a simple doughnut dine and dash? Neither of them told me about a party.” 

“That’s because the two of them tagged along with the guy they met there and it’s been downhill ever since. I wanna go home.” 

Can’t help but feel bad for Eunchae, since you were in her shoes before. 

“Mind hurrying it up a bit? I can hear Sakura’s moaning behind me and it’s looking like she won’t be going home tonight.” 

You scratch the back of your head, raking off the sleepiness before rubbing your eyes. “Alright, be there in a few. Where do you want to meet?” 

“I’ll send my location, my house isn’t far from here.” 

–

In a slight reiteration, you’ve become used to Kazuha’s antics. 

Kazuha brings in Sakura and her plus one late at night, you know how that goes; Kazuha can’t decide which top goes well with her loose pants for the grocery run; Kazuha procrastinates on some of the chores around the apartment and leaves you alone to pick up her slack. She smacks your ass for fun and runs away into her room - goes to show the years of friendship you have between you two. When you’re up late studying for midterms or finals, the noise cancelling headphones serve well to block out the sounds of Kazuha touching herself -or, the fact that you’re putting her pile of laundry on her bed and it’s riddled with the assortment of playboy magazines, dirty clothes, and the vibrator (which you don’t question) next to it. She’s an agent of chaos. A perfect anthesis to your very livelihood. 

It’s certainly no exception when you mentally add alcohol into the mix. 

“Do I want to know how she ended up like this?” You ask Eunchae upon arriving, kneeling down to a slumped Kazuha against the brickwall on the sidewalk - hand to the back of her head to get a better look of her drunk gaze: one eye open and giggling like an idiot, her words slurring. 

“She literally grabbed the first beer handed to her when we got here,” Eunchae replies, showing you a picture of the moments before disaster. “I thought she was a heavy weight.” 

“Depends on what they were passing out in that party.” You move Kazuha’s head around to ensure nothing happened to her. So far: face blushed with pink, a lazy eye, messy hair and sweaty skin. But most importantly: no marks. “Did Saki tell you to stick with her while at the party?” 

“Yes, she did.” 

“Well that’s the good news,” you’re saying to yourself. Kazuha might be a pain in your ass, but she is your longtime friend, after all. Like anyone else, you’d go the extra mile to keep an eye out for her. 

You then glance back at Eunchae, her shadow casted by the glare of the overhanging streetlight, arms crossed with the light tap of her foot. Her thumb subconsciously swipes the phone screen as you both look at Kazuha when she snorts, playfully hitting your arm. 

“She’ll be fine,” you softly say, hoisting Kazuha’s arms over your shoulders and adjusting her on your back. “Given the fact that Sakura’s getting her fuck-fix for the weekend, I’ll leave that be.” 

“Mhm, girl’s a piece of work,” Eunchae concurs, lashes fluttering in the dim lighting, air to the left side of her cheek. “And here I thought we were getting our box and heading back home but-” she then motions a hand to Kazuha murmuring behind you. “-this shit unfolded and, yeah.” 

“The regular stuff,” you admit, because it really is. You twitch your head the opposite way from the house party. “My car’s this way, I’ll drop you off on the way back.” 

–

(Dealing with a drunk Kazuha in the car was simple math: 

Make sure she’s comfy, for one. Recline the seat all the way back since her feet will most likely end up on the dashboard for another. And almost beating every red light at the intersections so that she doesn’t get cranky with all the stops and turns for the third note. 

A long list and every contingency written in the book: you know her that well.) 

–

3:00 in the morning is usually classified as ‘primetime hours’ for Kazuha. 

Except for tonight. 

You’re running through the standard procedure: get out the car, walk up the stairs, hook a right, second door past the balcony. 

Left shoulder, right shoulder, right foot up, then left; fix Kazuha’s weight on your backside so you don’t throw your back out early, lean a little too forward she’ll fall right off, look back when she’s secure. 

For a girl like her to be 5’7” and 105 pounds, it doesn’t add everything up in your head. She’s humming a song - the lyrics incoherent, tone consistent - then all of a sudden she yelps in surprise. Keep her quiet - a fifth noise complaint from the neighbors in the span of three days was not on the agenda for this week. 

She smacks your head, half awake. “Hey, how did I get home? Put me down.” Kazuha pushes herself off, landing on her feet with a stumble, prompting you to hover your hand to her waist so that she doesn’t lose balance. It’s 3 in the fucking morning and Kazuha’s drunk out of her goddamn mind. “Wait, when did you get here?” 

“I drove us,” you tell her, moving her arm over your shoulder and walking her towards the door. “Looks like you had fun tonight.” 

“I did,” Kazuha hiccups, blinking slowly. “Super fun time.” Her gaze freezes. You can’t tell if she’s grumpy or plain tired (trick question: it’s the second answer); she then closes her eyes with that neat, flat eye smile of hers to where you see the slightest dimple on her face. You could imagine the stars shimmering over her head. Kazuha has so many spirit animals that you could pair her up with, but if you had to choose one- 

“Ehe-” she giggles, staggering her right foot before readjusting her balance, doing the same laugh again. 

(She would definitely be a samoyed.)

So you stifle a laugh and close your mouth, opening the door. 

You’re leading the way back into the apartment while Kazuha tries to walk on her own. She fails. Her forearm bracing the doorway while you shift your body back around out of concern. Her body lurches forward like she just went twelve rounds in a boxing ring, fatigued. She straightens herself up with a hand on top of her head, chin tilted higher when she leans forward, about to fall. Like any other caring friend would do in this situation: you catch her. 

“Easy, easy.” You hold yourself steady, accepting the weight. Or- when you’re stumbling too and shuffle your feet for proper placement. “You said you didn’t drink that much, tell me the truth.” 

Kazuha hums, mindlessly bobbing her head in the form of a yes. 

Her gaze is sleepy. Both of your hands are at her shoulders, keeping her upright. Kazuha’s zip-up slips off her shoulder, exposing her collarbone, covering the tubetop she was wearing with a set of underwear you haven’t seen before. Probably new, you assume. “Kazuha, stand up straight for me, please?” 

“Mmkay,” she slurs. 

“Think you can walk back to your room by yourself?” 

“Nope.” Kazuha beams with her head to the left. 

You sigh. Pat the side of her face to wake her up a bit. “Guess you can’t be helped.” A hand’s extended like a peace offering. “C’mere, I’ll take you there right now.” 

“If you take good care, I’ll let you fuck me.” 

Oh, hell no- 

You weren’t prepared for this kind of Kazuha at all. There was no plan. Not even a proper response in your head could cover for it. 

Kazuha being drunk was always the marker for attention. Put her with the right people (like Sakura, Chaewon, even fucking Yunjin), and it’s guaranteed to be a never ending stream of laughs throughout the day and into the night. Not one second goes by when you’re out with friends to look over the shoulder and see the most questionable acts coming from her that twists the creases across your face and forces you to bear no mind to what’s happening behind you; stay focused now, ask questions later. When you do bring up the topic, it gets brushed over and eventually ignored. You have so many ‘why’s’ as it is, but you find it best to save it for the morning. 

“Kazuha, you’re clapped. There’s no way you just asked me to-” 

“But I’ll be good for you. C’mon, don’t you think I should repay you in some way?” 

“You getting sleep right now will be good for me. Now let’s go, I’m tired as it is-” 

Her arms wrap around your shoulder and middle lazily. You can’t afford to handle another minute of this nonsense and just get your ass back to bed. That alone should be a right in itself, but this girl won’t fucking let go. 

Next thing you know, her lips graze the bottom of your neck before resting on your collarbone. Your name is heard into your shirt, and you huff in annoyance. Plus, your voices could be a little louder than usual since Yunjin’s a heavy sleeper. At this point, you’ve had enough: so you slip your fingers into Kazuha’s hair and yank her head back to see her face wince at the sudden pain. There’s no shame when you see her biting her lip, half-lidded eyes gazing with no care of the lust behind them. “Just help me to my room, I promise not to give you trouble. I owe you. Need to thank,” she mumbles, licking her lips. “I’ll be a good girl.” 

“Christ- Kazuha, we’re not doing this.” But talking to her while she’s intoxicated isn’t going to do you any good. 

Now you carry on, dragging her closer to the room, ignoring the assault of mindless kisses she’s placing all over your neck. She ups the ante when her hand palms your sweats, trying to play it off in standing upright. 

“Jesus- Kazuha,” you angrily swear, similar to all the times she pissed you off.

“What? You don’t like that?” Kazuha asks, lips parted when she rests her fingers at your crotch. 

“Fucks sake, no.” 

“Aw come onnnn,’ she whines, trilling the last bit of the words. “Yunjin always has her fun, why can’t I?” 

“Because I said no.” 

“You won’t even let me suck you off? What if I just wanna stay here and sit so I can do that?” 

You can’t stand her being like this. 

“I always hear you and Yunjin getting it on in your room.” She leans on the wall next to the open door, curling her hand around your arm while the other doesn’t move. “How would it feel if I called you daddy again for once?” 

The scrunch in your nose shuts down the thought immediately. You’re sensible enough to not entertain the idea, despite how tempting it is. No. You know better. You know damn well what that shit does to you even if it slapped you in the face. No one casually spills the word ‘daddy’ like it’s nothing and expect no reaction. Her mind’s swimming in alcohol. You’re starting to wonder what the hell she drank at that party. 

“Again- God. Zuha.” You flicker your eyes into the void of the hallway. The nickname only comes up at times where she’s really getting on your nerves. “For the last time, you are getting your ass to bed and we’ll talk about it in the morning.” Kazuha winces at the sharp tone, realizing she’s overstepped her bounds. Bless the last bits of common sense she has left; you don’t know where you’d be if she didn’t use her brain cells for something else that required her to think. 

“Ugh, fine,” she tells you, and the tamped down ego in your head is satisfied in victory, stepping into her room. You hold her at the arms and help slip out of her jacket, tossing it on her chair as she does her part in sitting on the bed, waiting for you to lie her down. “I was hoping that you could fuck me.” 

“In your dreams,” you rebut firmly. 

Right before you walk away, Kazuha grabs your wrist. A few wisps of her hair fall over her forehead. “Wait,” she says, and that should’ve been the red flag to swipe your hand away from the imposing threat - a dangerous risk you’re not willing to take. You clench your teeth and swallow hard, with the slightest bit of pull in your arm. “At least-” 

You actually don’t move forward, but backward. 

“At least touch me, just this once.” Before you know what she’s doing, it’s already too late. Her hand guides yours to her thigh, working the curve of your thumb and index up her waist. Part of you is impressed at the amount of work she put in maintaining a chiseled frame, the muscle very much present the more your fingers press down on the skin. “For a little bit.” 

(Should’ve left the room when you had the chance.) 

Your eyes continue to gaze and drift all over Kazuha’s body, hand to her chest with the thumb curling below her breast. Her humming rumbles low, safe. It hadn’t been that long since she was out in the cold, but she’s surprisingly warm. 

She makes sure every single part of your hand feels it, flipping it over to the knuckles past her hips, fingertips making contact to the patterned lace of her panties - the fabric clearly damp when she starts to shift her hips at your touch. It’s all gone wrong - a mess, one really fucked up mess - her lower half continues to move with both of her legs pressing your hand in, holding you tight at her sensitive clit, the huffs rising and falling along with her chest the more she used your fingers to get herself off. 

Drunk Kazuha was easy to deal with. Sleepy drunk Kazuha was a cakewalk in caring for. But never in your years of knowing her where she would be like this. Let alone the fact you’re in a relationship with her best friend and you’re staring further and further away from the door towards freedom. 

The reality check will be cashed in once it’s all over.  

You say her name, which spills out in a stutter; your state of mind incomprehensible to the stacked hands working the heat and slick between Kazuha’s legs, head unable to stay still and lolling side to side, elbows digging into the mattress. 

How does she not feel embarrassed with what she’s doing? Sarcasm applied: how are you not ashamed of this? 

It hits you right then and there: in the retracted hand of yours, eliciting another small tantrum of Kazuha kicking and waving her arms like a kid. You take a second to pause, remember how you got here in the first place and why, clouded with anger and confusion, hindering a sizable amount of time to reflect. Soon, you found it best to retreat from the situation and into the kitchen, grab a glass of water and wash your hands to calm yourself. 

(Even as your thumb grazes the glass in a period of contemplating, the whole ordeal can't be swallowed down that easily, as much as you want it to. Not when you’re achingly hard in your sweatpants and that serves a few more strings of curses out your mouth.) 

One last thing that you could do before heading back to your room was set the small bottle of aspirin at the side of her bed for when she wakes up. Maybe convince her to use that body pillow of hers to mimic the warmth; you nod your head at the thought, it could work and it should. It’s been a few minutes since her mini breakdown and you assume that she’d be asleep by now. 

You couldn’t wait until the morning to tease her about being a horny drunk - worry about being her personal punching bag later. 

Apparently the teasing would have to wait. Because your personal ideal about Kazuha was about to be shifted again. 

The last thing you would’ve expected was for her to be sound asleep. Instead, she’s got her tube top up to her upper chest, one delicate hand furiously rubbing sloppy circles into her clit, the other gripping into the mattress as she’s on her knees, body pillow between her legs, grinding into the cushions. Her pants are at the foot of the bed, panties loosely around her right ankle. She’s an insufferable cocktease. 

It’s something straight out of your wet dreams, from a time when everything revolved around Kazuha. You’re sucked into an inescapable vacuum of thoughts you’d never think of again (with things like those, it’s all a lie, they always are). You can’t stop peering through the crack in the door, opening it wider to watch Kazuha grab a handful of her tit and ride her own hand. She’s too into it to pay attention to you, and you’re fighting every urge in the fingers sliding down your thigh, unable to move. 

She only seemed to have one thing on her lips, the only thing plaguing her intoxicated mind. The tube top at her pits and the gush of her cunt soaking up the last pillowcase, but you’re seeing it clear as day. 

You can’t help but think how good your name sounds on her lips. 

Kazuha then gropes both of her tits, pinching both buds of her nipples to keep her from stopping, finally figuring out that she can continue without the support, falling back on the bed, unfolding her legs like butterfly wings to reveal how wet she was. The small webbing of her slick coating her index and middle fingers, leaving more spots on the bed sheets beneath her. 

There’s a deathly, fucked up part of you in the back of your mind: that wants to give in to the temptation. Oh, you could give Kazuha the same treatment as Yunjin when you have her in a blithering wreck, fucking her full as she creams on your cock, grab her by the hair and press her to the closest thing nearby to reatalite on the slightly abusive attitude. Get your tongue all over her cunt like it’s the last meal you’d ever have on your knees and have her cumming and hands full of every single part of her body until she’s had enough (which will most likely be never in this case). The need for more is an absolute certainty, a greater purpose. You'll consciously be happier in being rough, be a pain in her ass (quite literally, sooner than you think), and completely forget about the resistance or consequences.

You’re holding yourself back for now, placing the water and two tablets of aspirin on the dresser, lean your shoulder to the door frame - inhaling and exhaling quietly to not make her realize you were still in the room. 

She doesn’t stop her fingers from dipping inside her leaking slit, wagging it across her folds with every passing shudder of her breathing, sinking it back in soon two digits at a time. Debauched, impure, sinful; you could go through the list of your lexicon to describe this present moment and still won’t give an explanation as to why you can’t look away. You watch as her eyes wander, flickering when she looks down and plop her head back on the pillow when the finger curl rubs at a sensitive spot.

And it’s almost instinctual, close to second nature: your hand tugging your dick out, paying close attention to how the slenderness of her hand widely spreading her pussy folds. How Kazuha wished her own hand was a dildo or a vibrator or your cock - they won’t stretch in the way she imagines it. 

The third finger she inserted was a good try, you’ll give her that. You can’t help but be enamored. 

Suddenly, she’s switching out names. First, your name and then Yunjin’s. That’s a new piece of information you’ll save for later. Ignoring the question of how weird because this was already fucking insane as it is; you’re slowly pumping your shaft in time with her upward thrusts, grip your shaft to mimic the pressure and emulate how the skin would be coated in her soaking wetness, listening closely to the squelching getting louder and louder it seems. 

Kazuha’s legs are flush against the mattress, as far as she could get them. She’s flexible enough to do it, opening up more room for her other hand to get a fill of her desperate cunt. A sweet view. You’re lucky to have witnessed it in real time. 

Shit, you’re silently cursing to yourself. Wishing that you would’ve abstained in committing such a wicked act. 

But you keep pumping, delusion plaguing your mind. You’re lost in the sights, the sounds, her face wobbling to more rapturous, tucking her hand and tilting her hips like those other guys have done to her, the heat tugging them tightly - God, she doesn’t let up with the lovely moaning. 

“Mmm, yes, right there-” 

Seeing Kazuha like this feels undeserved. 

“Please, please-” 

“What is it. Kazuha? Want some help there?” You ask mindlessly, slipping out of your sweats some more to open up your legs. 

And when she says your name again: “I need you here with me.” 

“I’m not far,” you answer, gaze crestfallen and wistful. 

You lower your guard when the rush of euphoria begins to spread within. The sensation of jerking yourself had the capacity to wear you out just how you wanted. Because of this, when you eventually look back up, you can see the glint of watered eyes watch across from you - in between the valley of her breasts, toned legs and reddened knees. “Look at you, so handsome,” she says, hand circling her clit faster. Harder. Fingers increasing in pace to match your strokes rather than the other way around. 

“Fuck, you look so good-” you grunt with buckling knees. A familiar, aching tension in your stomach, the pin rising to the peak in your balls. The wonders of having a pretty best friend. 

“Yeah?” she murmurs. “Like this? My pussy out wide open for you? Why don’t you walk back here and plug it up?” 

“No need. You’re doing good, so fucking good. I’ll keep myself here- holy shit.” 

“Would feel-” Kazuha wheezes, a relieving proposition. “Even better, with you.” She says it like it’s some forbidden truth. 

In an alternate reality, she’d be right. 

“Think so?” Jesus fucking christ, you’ve lost it. In the current affair, this is all that mattered. “You’d prefer my dick to split your guts up instead of your fingers?” 

“God, yes.” 

“Want me to take care of that pretty little cunt of yours?” 

Kazuha sighs once more, confirming the question for you. It didn’t take much to work her up in general; if you didn’t have the remaining ounces of common sense, you could’ve dropped your pants right at the door and get even more dirty with the arousal pouring relentlessly out of her stuffed hole. It wouldn’t be a bad idea right? Cleaning up her mess with your hands, your mouth, gurgle down the endless stream of her pussy where there’d be multiple threads dripping down her legs. Fucking hell, you really could if you wanted to. 

Though you don’t move a single muscle besides your hand. 

“C’mon, more. Just a little more,” she groans, breath hitching every other second. You can feel the air get tighter, the vibrations in your throat tremoring along with every tense fiber of muscle. Coming down to a fine point, overtaking you. 

You’re just as shameless as her. 

The piercing wail of your name off her lips sounds broken, eyes clenched shut when you finally fall off that peak. You cum all over your fingers, spurting and smearing across the skin - fuck, it comes in a panic when some of it spills on the hardwood, but you could care less since it blends in well with the color. How you managed to remain standing from your high was a mystery, knees bending forward while the twitching continued to pass.

Kazuha tenses her body from the erratic movement of her chest, struggling to calm down from her orgasm. Through your sated, lidded eyes, you watch her frame relax, head falling over to the side, hand plopping over to the edge like someone shot a bullet through her on the spot. 

“Kazuha.” You huff, hoping for a response. “Kazuha?” 

Yep, she’s knocked out. 

You take a minute or two to return to your senses, looking back at Kazuha’s body to ensure she was fast asleep. Staring at the gentle shift of her arm cuddling the pillow she just rode on, you found it best to let her deal with the clean up later in the morning when she’s fully sobered up. 

A really big ‘if’ for later: her remembering everything she did from last night. You’re swearing that it doesn’t happen - hoping you don’t breathe a word of what you’ve seen or did. 

(It would be a huge problem on your hands, and an even worse one if it becomes hers.) 

Fuck, she would be mortified. 

–

“You look like shit,” Yunjin tells you later that morning, chin perched up and eyes squinted. “Didn’t you and Kazuha come back together 30 minutes later?” 

“Something like that,” you sigh, giving up the effort in holding back your yawn. “Slow mornings are always harder than the actual day.” 

“Hangovers are never kind.” 

You shrug. “Some of us can handle it better than others.” 

Right on cue, you and Yunjin glance over to see a tired Kazuha sitting alone on one of the chairs near the kitchen. Her hoodie is up and both hands are on her face to hide the subtle cough. She looks like she could sleep for another eight hours after breakfast, and it most definitely could happen. The plate in front of her is cleaned off: holding the knife and fork, coated with syrup and clearly ran through. 

Yunjin gives you a look, probably along the lines of: ‘are you sure nothing bad happened to her?’ 

You purse your lips and open the fridge, with a cold water bottle now in your hand. 

From then on it’s a silent exchange: Yunjin walking over to Kazuha and caressing the back of her head, Kazuha looking and nodding to let her know she’s alright before going on with the rest of her unproductive day. 

As for your part: you slide the bottle over to her with two more tablets of aspirin for her to take. For insurance, you insist. She’s someone you know very well who can’t function properly unless there’s some sort of responsible figure who can facilitate and keep an eye on her condition. 

It isn’t like her to be awfully quiet at times, so you fill in that role of the opposite as needed. 

“How’s your head?” You ask, voice lowered that you don’t scare the poor girl. “Gotta say, I’m jealous you got better sleep than me for once.” 

Kazuha leans back on the chair with her eyes trained on you. The occasional beep of the smoke detector above goes on for a few seconds when you see the tip of her tongue peek out and runs it along her teeth, contemplating. 

“Better,” she says. Her first words of the day. A small win. “Thank you.” 

You nod in approval, poking her forehead for some fun. “Great. No going out for you today. Not until you’re back to normal. You know the rules.” 

The gentle clatter of the silverware along the plate compliments the soft scuffle of your feet along the floor. You’re not thinking too much about what happened last night, drawing up the conclusions that it was a one-time thing. Anything beyond that reason would bring in plausible deniability. 

But you carry on with the simple house chore with Kazuha unknowingly staring from behind: biting her lip. 

–

Ironic about the unproductive day, you do everything but that. 

Emails, papers, evaluations, your endless editing of the resume, the Spoitfy window with the classical music playlist, all of it eats up the time. With the occasional step out to grab some food or a cup of water - or maybe Yunjin piggybacking you as an attempt to get you away from the desk- 

“I know you big baby,” you wheeze, feeling Yunjin’s nose against the nape of your neck, “Just let me finish one more thing and then we can do something. Promise.” 

“You said that last time,” she groans, corralling her arms tighter on your shoulders, toes barely touching the floor, “Maybe I should change the password to your desktop so you don’t go to it first thing in the morning. It’s a dangerous addiction.” 

“It’s called a routine,” you rebuke. 

“I know your password,” argues Yunjin. 

“Might have to change it again.” 

She gets off when you settle back in the office chair, her arms still wrapped and pressing her lips on to your cheek, making you giggle at the sudden assault of touches. To her defense, they’re pretty effective - her way of swaying you to lose your concentration. You don’t think twice when she forces you to put down the phone before lunch or dinner, or when you’re out with friends and she thinks it would be a great idea to send you nudes knowing very well that it’s not meant to be seen publicly. Her hair starts to pool over your front, smelling like apple rose and aloe. “So you’re saying it’s not ��huhyun108’? Are you serious?” And she’s got you all figured out - the many angles of pressure points to slowly give in towards. Picking and choosing her battles carefully, but you don’t go down from a fight that easily. 

“Gonna change it now, actually,” you say, fast tapping on the keyboard. “Find it best for you not to look.” 

Yunjin cackles as you’re pushing her face away, pulling the chair along with you. 

–

Yunjin doesn’t have to do too much: all it takes is one breath and a few sly words and she gets what she wants. 

She’s adamant with what’s hers: lipstick mark on your neck? That’s Yunjin. Her white scrunchie on deck at your wrist for when she can’t deal with her hair? Also Yunjin - supplying to the demand was always her kind of thing. 

It’s midweek, at the point in the day where things get stagnant and there isn’t anything of interest to note, the usual grace period where the thought of doing nothing is considered the best option. Yunjin keeps watching that same netflix series, dissatisfied with how the current season played out. To compensate: she rewatches the second season for the sixth time and her key point was the fact the two most popular contestants really hit it off, but never got together. 

That wasn’t the main concern, however. 

“She hasn’t been out of her room since yesterday,” Yunjin pouts, long legs stacked on top of yours and restraining. “I’m getting a little worried.” 

“I saw her go to the kitchen and back earlier,” you inform, tossing popcorn into your mouth. “She did have that pilates session around lunch. You know Zuha, and her cardio.” 

“That door’s been shut a little too long,” she mumbles, not entirely ruling out your observation. “I know that there’s the unspoken rule for privacy, but I’m genuinely curious what the girl’s been up to. She seems a bit-” 

“Closed off?” You fill in, completing the train of thought. “You may be right with that.” 

“Mmm,” Yunjin agrees. 

“Wait it out some more, then we’ll see what happens.” 

–

(You wonder a bit too much, and get caught off guard as a consequence. 

You haven’t moved from the couch, with Yunjin fast asleep at your side. The position so comfortable, you could honestly pass out here and wake up eons later - a tempting idea to entertain, and a plausible action to consider. 

Kazuha appears from the hallway, rubbing the tiredness off from her three hour nap. A bit bizarre to nap past 8 PM, but that’s her thing. Her shirt is so baggy that it covers some of her thighs, toes spread on the floor before she continues to make headway to the fridge. Hair frizzled in messy waves and moving gently in every step. 

So you initiate first, “Hey,” and you layer that with a lean back of the head of the couch so she can see you better in the dim light. “Everything good?” 

Kazuha twists her body towards your voice, gaze stoic and quiet, fingers twisting the bottle cap open and fiddling it around. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired, that’s all.” 

“Good to know,” and your words come casual. Unbothered. As if you heard enough to carry on and leave her be, aware that she’s able to interact again. “Happy to hear your voice, like alive- or something.” 

“You sound worried,” says Kazuha, cringing. “Ew, don’t do that. It’s weird.” 

She doesn’t know you can hear her snort from the couch. 

“But you are okay, right?” You ask again. Kazuha’s backside twisting once more to face you, blinking carefully. Her expression shifts to something more misty, unclear. All she gives is a nod and hum. Doesn’t say anything after. 

At least she tells you that much.)

–

Okay, it’s probably bad that you’re keeping an eye on Kazuha - reserving a spot in your head to revisit that night over and over. Maybe it means something, or it doesn’t. 

It really, really shouldn’t. Like at all. But the recurring thought fills your mind at some point between the passing days. 

“I’m heading out now.” Kazuha says to you sweeping through the kitchen, bag in hand and behind Yunjin. “Won’t be back until later probably.” 

“Where are you headed this time?” Yunjin leans over, resting her head. 

“Sakura called me to be her muse for her fashion portfolio. Said I fit the profile with the outfits she has in mind. Girl can crochet, but clothes? She has a really good fucking talent for them. I can see her go places.” 

“That’s our Saki,” Yunjin muses, hand up for Kazuha to acknowledge before making her way around the kitchen island, causing you to turn about face. She isn’t going to confront you about that (for God’s sake, you can’t stop thinking about it anyway), but rather stare you down because it’s the usual thing with her. 

It’s a little intimidating that she’s almost your height, with a body well maintained she could go twelve rounds if she wanted. Yunjin watches as Kazuha squints her eyes - works through the fridge for another cold bottle with her gaze trained on you. You and her exchange eyebrow expressions and read into the message through your eyes, Kazuha tilting her chin then breaking eye contact as you twist the other cheek. Next thing you know, her hand smacks your ass. 

“The fuck was that for?” You groan, clearly offended. “You’re the one who wanted the face-off.” 

“For being a dickhead,” Kazuha says with no color in her voice. “Also, thanks for saving me at the party while Sakura was getting railed outside. I owe you one.” 

“Amazing how you say things like that so casually,” you muse, cocking your head. “You’re welcome, I suppose.” 

Kazuha then flashes a look back with her hands now in the pocket of her hoodie. You can’t help but glance over to the defined frame of her face, the slope of her nose, her lack of makeup knowing very well that she’ll get a touch up from Sakura before the lookbook photoshoot. She’s painting a false picture with those baggy clothes she wears on a daily basis, but you and Yunjin are waiting to see the photos once they’re done. 

“Yunjin,” she says. 

“Hm?” Yunjin hums with food in her mouth. 

“Did I ever tell you about his decent looking face?” Kazuha concludes, tilting her head side to side for better angles. “Still a dickhead, though.” 

“Ha. Thanks.” 

She points her lips at you, a quirk of hers that she made as her habit. Her hand goes up in lieu of a goodbye and slides past the wall. 

–

“It’s hilarious because,” Yunjin catches herself mid snort, hand hiding her mouth, “The way they say Jurassic World is so funny to me. And the guy repeats it as ‘Jorassic Wurold’ like- the pronunciation is slightly off when he asks her about the movie.” 

You test the wording with your own mouth but emphasize on the syllables, trying to emulate what she observed from watching the other day. It distracts you from the assortment of ingredients spread out on the cutting table, falling into Yunjin’s shenanigans was always the daily driver no matter what the mood was on the hour. 

Midway through slicing some meats, you’re still practicing the wording on your lips. “Y’know, english is not everyone’s strong suit,” you tell her, portions set aside for some vegetables, leaning the other way to get a better view of your fingers, rolled up and not in the blade’s way, “gotta commend him keeping the conversation going. That takes effort.” 

Yunjin tilts the cup into her face, nodding in agreement; she’s got her legs crossed off the counter, feet pointed up when you glance back to see a hinted eyebrow. Bare face and long lashes fluttering - a light blush on her cheeks as she leans back and puts the bottom of the beverage upwards. 

She smacks her lips soon after, licking her teeth. “He was really into her, you saw it too.” 

The metal blade clacks against the wood. “Huh?” 

“Don’t ‘huh’ me. You know who.” 

“Dex?” 

“Dex,” she repeats, pointing the empty cup in your direction. 

“I saw it happening, don’t worry,” you say, attention drawn back to the chopped up greens now being placed into a bowl. “Part of me was convinced that they would be together when they met from the get-go.” 

For a quick fill-in: it hasn’t been that long since Kazuha went out, a little over thirty to forty-five minutes at most. In that time, you and Yunjin managed to get through a third of a series she picked at random before she started to get more touchy with you. Like the good boyfriend you are - ready at every beck and call, you oblige. Yunjin swung both of her legs onto the seat of the couch, easing into the slow graze of your hands on her thigh, hand cupping her hips and raising the arch in her back when she felt the hard press of your hips against hers. She hates it when it comes to the teasing, but she’s actually a hypocrite on the fact that she does it all the time when you have your legs spread either sitting or laying down; when your brains are fucked into oblivion while she’s on top, bouncing on your balls without a care in the world for damage control. But you broke her brain a little when you grinded into her clothed cunt for fifteen minutes until one of your guys’ stomachs grumbled which put everything on hold for now. 

(There’s always a red herring to be said. For this one in particular, you coined it as: “gotta have that fuel for later, especially if we’re going for more than two rounds.”) 

“Thought so too,” says Yunjin, projecting her own insights when she lets herself down from the polished marble, setting her bearings headway towards you, tending to the ingredients. 

A pot gets put on top of the stove behind you, along with the chopped veggies. “Didn’t he also say that it was a bit late for him to pursue her?” You ask, twisting the dial until the clicking sets the burner to life, gaze locked on Yunjin who stops an inch away. “Something about not being a reliability because of what she’s doing for her career?” 

“Somewhere along those lines, the gap wasn’t too bad either, five years if I recall,” Yunjin supplies, unsure. 

“She was a neuro major, Yunjin.” 

“So?” 

“Dex has his own thing going too, doesn't he?” 

“If you really think about it, I thought it could’ve worked between the two. Yes, he was into her. He was also very amazed with what she was doing with her life. Not to mention the fact that these two clicked the moment he entered the competition as the wild card compared to the other guys. Oh, and that bombshell reveal that she was attending Harvard? Literally gagged the hosts when it first happened. Don’t forget that she was attracted to him for a minute before nothing eventually came to be? I remember showing you the video of those two after the season aired and you can still see the chemistry in them. Some people say that it wouldn’t work out since the scenario is long-distance, but the mother approved of the guy for crying out loud-” You grin and shake your head. Yunjin’s left completely baffled because of it. “-okay, I’m still a firm believer that those two are endgame. That’s my point. I have evidence and a solid reason to back it up. Go ahead, try and test me.” 

“No, I hear you.” You reel her in for a hug while her hands are on her hips. “If it were me, I would’ve thought long and hard about making a big commitment like that.” 

Yunjin sighs, hands sliding up your back. “I know. I really liked their vibe together.” 

Your hands get full of her ass, beneath the fabric of her shirt, laying prints in the mix of skin and threads. Yunjin puts her arms around your neck loosely, stacked and hanging with the slightest pull from her elbows. It’s in the most innocent of pretense, the suggestion heavily implied without the use of words at all. She leans up while you tilt down, meeting in the middle for that overdue relapse of addiction: the lips. She sighs, teeth claiming your mouth as her own, pulling the lovely part of flesh that makes you want to hear those familiar octaves as her body crumbles from the greediness and weight of your touch. 

Every kiss feels like a swan song; the desire of never letting go, press your face deeper into hers, leave a mark on the refreshed canvas waiting to be painted in inspiration and curated for no one else in the world to see. You’re aware that she’s willing to incite change, create something new, get in the right mindset of a familiar avenue in your head where there’s nothing but desperation. It’s in how her fingers rake through your hair, weave down your waist, to your hips, close to the spot where she wants to bring you out the most. 

Think of it as her picking up where she left off on the couch. You could’ve done it right then and there, but you didn’t. 

“Should’ve thought long and hard about earlier, right?” Yunjin teases, half-drunk already with her slack lips. 

“There’s a reason why I set you on the counter in the first place,” you huff, pushing her body past the stove, pinning her against the drawer. “Because of this. I know you, Yunjin.” You then lift her back up to the spot where she started, height difference elevated by a mere few inches. The top of her forehead rests on yours. 

“Such a buzzkill,” she concedes, pouting her heart away like it doesn’t do anything to you. Arms holding you hostage as you try to break free from her grasp. “What’s a girl gotta do to get some kisses around here?” 

“Not a lot,” you offer. 

“Says the person who’s trying to get rid of me.” She doubles down, ankles to your backside and limits the movement. Her exhale is satirical, hoping you’ll dish out the punishment. 

“Your stomach thinks otherwise.” You declare. Pushing her legs apart and retreating. You look over to the kitchen for anything within reach, and settle for an apple. You further the distance between Yunjin to grab it, toss it over as she catches it effortlessly - bites down the fruit in defeat, satiating the cravings. “There. That wasn’t so hard, was it?” 

(She would much rather have your lips again or even your cock. The fire’s already started, and the water begins to boil.) 

The space feels so far between you two, yet so small. Yunjin holds the apple with her teeth, watches you round the corner of the counter - sees your eyes dart to an open box, the bundle of pasta in the plastic, a knife- something to divert your attention for the time being while you’re forming a strategy in your head - a game plan as to how you’ll deal with her tonight. 

You see: you think you know Yunjin, every part of her body and mind, inside and out. 

She debunks the theory right out of the gate. In a million ways you can’t wrap your head around.  

All she does is straighten her posture, spreads her legs across the glossy wood, and lifts up the fabric past her hips. 

There’s nothing fucking underneath. Just sweet, smooth thighs and her pretty pink glistening  pussy lips. 

It gets your mind racing in confusion: 

“Since when did you-” you’re taken aback, torn from being half-shocked and not-so surprised, also doubling down on the fact she definitely had panties on beneath that shirt. “Didn’t you have something there just a few minutes ago?” 

Yunjin is a master of her art, the trickery in the highest rank imaginable. You envy her intellect at times - her charms, the ways that she can make you speechless just by being herself. This very girl within the walls of your home she claimed as hers, who managed to seep into the nooks of your brain, poisoning you from within until you can’t go for a second longer without wanting to see her gorgeous face, hear her voice; feel her pull you down back to earth while also sending you straight to heaven. None of it really makes sense with her, nor is supposed to. You could go through multiple lifetimes in the existence of the universe and she’ll still find a way to be in all of them. 

Though, she doesn’t give you any chance of solitude with your thoughts. She raises her right hand behind her back, middle and ring finger holding the nylon as her admission of guilt. 

It earns her a small shake of your head, disappointed and impressed in the same moment.  

“Sleight of hand, mister,” she tuts, victorious. Her thumb then grazes against the nylon before falling into its fated purgatory of the floor below. She catches you zoning out, doing two loud clicks of her tongue to keep your eyes on the prize. “My eyes are up here, by the way.” 

“Where did you think I was looking?” 

“Probably at something that matters.”

“And that is?” 

“Fuck if I know- oh wait, I do know. You’re just not doing anything about it.” 

“Want me to proclaim it out loud?” You inquire, sardonically - as if you were willing to play along with her little game of pragmatics, read into the lines of a script and catch the nuances of a hidden message past the sentences. “State the obvious since the naivety is starting to become unbearable for you?” 

“I never said that,” Yunjin rebukes. Hand sliding down to her legs - those dainty fingers having their own fun. 

And you begin your endeavor back to her. One graciously little step at a time. 

Your ears tick at the sudden hitch of breath, muffled by the apple blocking her mouth. It’s on purpose. God help her. She curls her fingertips at the first dip inside her cunt the more you glide over the floor. The weight of your feet becomes less heavier and lighter in every move. Yunjin’s head bumps the cabinet, hips tensing at the rush of her fingers sliding across her folds. She won’t fuck herself like this. No- she would prefer to have you deal the actual blows to her body when you’ve finally decided enough is enough. We’re getting there, don’t worry. Just. A little. Push. 

She finally lets the apple go from her mouth, off to where it’ll most likely be disregarded into the sink or the trash. You can’t stop the constant twitching your hands are doing; so while the pathway is clear, you take into account of the bubbling pot next to you, putting a lid on to make the gurgling much more muted, zero in on the vibrations rumbling in Yunjin’s throat, focus on the rise of her chest. 

Her head drops and to the side, the pull of fabric molding to her figure. Emphasizing on the curves of her waist, those mounds, the present appearance of her hard nipples. The implications clear as day in the form of a seductive summoning. 

But you start slowly: a hand to her knee, then the other. Anticipation is killing you both. 

Landfall.

“What am I gonna do with you?” You sigh, looking down at the sight of Yunjin touching herself, thick air being expelled from your lungs, wiping your inner self clean before repurposing to acclimate the need of getting dirty again. 

Yunjin pulls a lazy grin, beautifully - and leans back while her hips slips forward. Her grip guides your wrists over her skin, shirt hiked up past her waist and into her hips by the second. “You don’t have to say or do if you want to.” She offers, but that’s the setup. “Just wisely biding your time.” 

Not much of it has changed, the way you willingly sink down to your knees. You’re romantic about it - deserves a smirk for the appreciation. You glance up to her toffee shaded eyes, fingers rotating to hook firm on the peak of her thighs, extend your arms up high like she’s some sacred treasure, proffering. “Darling,” and the singular word sets the rest of the testament into place, the burgeoning intention of her demise at your hands. You think back to a week ago: where she found herself in the familiar pecking order, back on the linoleum with her elbow as faulty support, splitting her open and feel her body go limp when you made her cum like she suggested. Your mouth freezes with a gasp when you look closely at her seeping slit, heart stopped as you examine in awe. “I’ll have all the time in the world,” you mumble - or what’s close, honestly - into the plush surface of her thighs, brush your lips down a familiar path you know very well. “But you, gotta slowly show me you deserve it.” 

Her breath hitches again, hesitating. Nerves seizing muscle right where they are. 

“At this rate we’ll be here all night,” she hums, eyes torn from gazing down and spacing out to something in the distance. “Not that I mind, of course, but-” she then nibbles on her lip at the feeling of yours on her legs, deluded and washed over with lust to forget about everything else, “dinner’s still on the cards, yes?” 

“Pick up that apple. You eat while I eat, how bout that?” You propose the solution. One which Yunjin can’t ignore. 

She reaches for the apple and stares into the yellow crater, taking another bite. Cheeks full of fruity bits. “I could get used to this,” her jaw trembling and breath spilling out in a shudder. “Wouldn’t you rather hear-” 

Her neck loosens at the swipe of your tongue over her folds, apple tossed off to the side one more likely never to be eaten again. She leaks out a little more slick for you to clean up, and it’s delightful. Yunjin fancies the idea of scooting her hips forward, thighs hanging out and barely her ass on the counter, providing you more space to work with when your arms hook around the swell of her ass and pull her closer, hand quick to the crease of her knee to put her heel on your collarbone and takes her fingers into your hair, spread one side of her folds and dip your tongue in some more, consuming the warmth down your throat and eat her out alive. 

“Honey,” you proclaim with an arch to your eyebrow, breathless, “You’re fucking leaking.” 

Yunjin pulls this devilish grin, yanks your head back a little further back for you to look up, face twisted with madness. Staring deep into your soul, insatiable. “Your turn to eat, baby.” 

Very few people can play your game, but Yunjin was a whirlwind full of surprises. Each one more shocking than the last. 

“What’s wrong? Speechless?” she asks, but doesn’t give you a second to respond when she reels your head back in. 

So you put your mouth back what’s rightfully yours: press your tongue into her aching cunt and save the words for later. 

You hear her wince, picturing the pained expression in the creased eyebrows, eyes closed shut, jaw hung low. She grinds your face deeper, much deeper to the point where she’s needy enough to feel the light graze of your teeth. 

You slide your fingers into her, unfazed when her knees close your head in, giving you no chance to breathe. Her pants increase in pace, falling apart just a few inches above you. The sounds are absolutely wonderful, blessing you with the harmonious repertoire of moaning spilling out of her mouth - lapping up the wetness at the curl of your finger, cleaning up the salty sweetness of her arousal, slick spread across skin and the sensitive response of her clawing hand into your hair. 

Yunjin’s hair starts to pool over the front of her face, the sight alone is a delight in itself. The ripped collar showing more of her pale shoulder, handfuls of the shirt now undone as her other hand joins the fray on your head, body clenching and relaxing - unsure on which choice is the right one. You and her both listen in to the soft licks and wet smacks of skin and folds, hear her giggle in relief until your nose brushes up against her clit, throbbing core given a quick second of grace before you dive back in and don’t spare a chance for her to breathe. She asked for this, and you expect her to handle it as best she can. Until she’s whimpering and desperate and begging to be more useful than just your mouth and hands. Till she has to say the very words herself in what she wants, while her frame trembles delicately. 

More, more. The boiling pot next to you starts to bubble past the cover, droplets of water hitting the grill and sizzling. You push your tongue in deeper, get the gloss over your lips, pull her folds apart wider and hit the same spot where it kills her over and over, notice the curl of her toes into your shirt, dig her heel deep into the threads. Yunjin bites down her teeth, hand to her breast and gripping tightly. The bubbles start to lift the lid, popping. 

“Can you - be - even more - god, holy fuck-” she spits, words stuttering as her hips slide out over the edge, prompting you to hold her high, drop your jaw even more, kiss and suck the untouched areas and spread her legs. She gasps. “Baby,” she laughs even louder, slapping her palm down on the countertop, “God, I can’t believe-” 

She rucks her hips upward, mimicking a thrust. Your head fades out the rest of the outside noise. 

“-you, of all people-” And a moan pierces your ears, the sound heavenly. Yunjin’s hand palms the back of your head as you start to alternate an up and down motion. Her high imminent, in the curl of your knuckle and lick of your tongue pushing her closer to that pedestal. You push and pull, let the grip of her fingers guide you to the spots where she needs it. Her way of life: the taste of her; warm and addicting. “Fuck, s-shit, there- there! Right there-” 

You open your mouth even more, drinking her mess until she has you drowning in it. Her swollen cunt’s quivering. You can’t help yourself but smile. 

“Need your mouth, your tongue- your- fuck-” 

You’re happily swimming. 

It’s even better when her chest is puffed up, back arched. At a loss for words and just straight up gone. You hold her down as she’s shaking and suck her pussy for your own benefit - devouring her relentlessly, voice broken to a shriek as her juices gush around your tongue and fingers, groaning lowly while you carry on licking the mix of plush-soaked skin, feel the lingering effects of her orgasm leave her body with a harsh pull of her clit on your lips. 

She’s trying everything to calm down, head lightly tapping the cabinet behind her. Clawed fingers releasing their grasp as you help yourself up, legs loosely wrapped around yours and posture reduced to a slouch. “Hate you, by the way. I hate you the way that you are.” She tells you, arms barely placed on your shoulders, slipping. “Why do you have to be so good at being a douche?” 

“Don’t follow your point,” you dart back with a sigh. Height restored and hands back to where they started: on her knees; you cock your head to the right, get a closer look at Yunjin’s messy hair, rumpled shirt, thighs glistening and pink- 

She smacks the side of your neck, earning a pitiful laugh. You’re aware that she loves these kinds of treatments: the kind of treatment where you want her to tenderly run her hand down your face, whisper in your ear of all the things she wants you to do, sliding deep into her cunt and let the heat consume you, wanting - you’ve got get a grip, seriously. She has your head spiraling and somehow you always come out on top of it; the usual bouts where the victor has already been decided. “One day, you’ll see what I mean.” 

“I have a hard time understanding you and Kazuha as it is,” mouth agape, bearing no mind to the act she’s trying to pull. Unpredictability was one of Yunjin’s strong suits and that was no surprise: peeling her shirt off over her shoulders and lifting the veil hiding the endless curves of her body - the slutty little waist, long thighs, her breasts- 

“Maybe I can help you with that,” she offers, lacking judgement. Her hand slips underneath your sweats, fingers taking hold of your cock, confirming her suspicions. Your mouths meet once again, sloppily, you giving leeway after eating out her cunt and in return she has you twitching. “Goodness me,” she mutters into the warmth of your mouth, tempted, rubbing that effect on you. “I bet you’re just dying to stick this inside of me already.” 

“Watch your mouth.” 

“Or what-” she grins lazily. 

You grasp the skin a little bit tightly as your other hand cups her cunt, the heel of your palm digging into her clit. 

“-fuck, that’s what you meant,” her voice diminishing with lidded eyes. 

You then quickly take into account the small funnel of air blowing from the cover; the whirr of the vent above coming to life. 

Yunjin scoots herself over the counter, sees you tug your cock out of pants, lip to teeth as it gently touches her skin. It’s all part of the pecking order, how things build up high to eventually fall - second nature, muscle memory, all the same. 

She’s got her arms and legs around you, inching her hips forward to speed up the process, hopeful in you wrecking her body as always: “You know, not talking isn’t gonna get you everywhere if you don’t do it,” she goes on, no care for your fidgeting hands rubbing up and down her thighs. 

“What the hell is this, a silent treatment?” she asks again, impatience starting to get to her. “C’mon, say something.” 

You serve her anything but that, slicking your fingers with her cum and tap the pads into her skin, gently feeling her sensitive clit to make her lose her train of thought. She’s incessant, but it’s rare for her to be less on the offensive in pressing you for once, so you’ll take full advantage of it. 

“What do you want me to say? I’ve already told you about my observations,” you answer, digits sliding in her cunt and the girl just nods. She’ll notice but still talk out of her ass, since she loves the thrill. Her accompanying grin along with the lip bite and wink sells the whole image, leans you in with the shirt wrapped around your neck, pulling. The small twinge of romance attached. 

The shirt then crumples on the floor when she lets go. 

“That I’m fucking leaking? You sucked me clean, I can barely feel my legs.” 

“Right,” you laugh, working her face some more until her hands go languid. 

Her look goes curt, dismissive. Lashes fluttering in every blink because that’s the second best thing she has in her bag of tricks, aware of the double-edgedness it ensues. She inhales sharply, quick, sudden, bracing the tip of your cock sliding across her folds. “How long has it been since you last fucked me? Yesterday? Two days ago? Finally having your fun since I sucked you off last time, hm?” 

“I don’t need to answer that,” you rebuke. “There’s no point to it.” Is the everlasting conclusion. 

She cocks her head to the left. Elbow holding her up in the best way she can, arching her back again, your cock in position at her awaiting entrance, cup your fingers into her hip. “Don’t blame me for killing you this time.” 

Her face steadies, frozen. Then: the lines of her face warble, mouth dropping. Cunt inviting your tip pressing in. 

“Like I ever would,” she scoffs, right hand to the back of your neck, clinging. “This is what I wanted, remember?” 

(The way that she’s spread, heel hooking to your knee, she’s stripped and defenseless against you. It’s the guilty pleasure you have as her pussy accommodates you, all wet and inviting that it won’t be a struggle to fit in one seamless push. Regardless: that part alone makes sense.) 

“Question is,” you murmur during the break of eye contact, staring lower at the view of your cock finally slips inside and see the quick contraction of her stomach - like she was ready to take a punch to the gut - glancing back up and watch her eyelids flutter at the feeling. “You can’t do anything in this situation, can you?” This girl just came in your mouth a few minutes ago but she’s takes you in with no problem: filling every inch of you in a beautifully fucked up missing piece that she’s constantly deprived of every time. You dig your fingers deep into the skin, stop halfway, then continue to wrench out every inch of her walls. 

“God,” Yunjin grits, breath seething in the gaps of her teeth, brows furrowed. “Go to- fuck-” 

She doesn’t even finish the sentence when you push further. Replaced with a moan instead; her cheeks and nose wrinkle, fingers balled up to a fist behind and her elbow shaking. Her head barely keeping herself together with the cabinet as a last support, failing terribly. 

You stop your movements because the lines on her face are forming toward a familiarity: nervous, dazed, hesitant. A quick twitch of your head negates all of those thoughts away and instead focuses on ramming your hips into her, the clash of skin rippling through you and her both. 

It’s the bravado that she carries, the playfulness, her shift of her sly words, withering and fading at the amount of you: she’s fighting every fiber of muscle to sputter out her needs, though the sweat and slick spread out over body make up in the defilement of her undoing. You can see through her bullshit, and all she sees is the glide of your shaft back into her pussy - the width of you stretching so effortlessly her body forms a jagged line along the frame, mewling and bucking forward. Your fingers hold her hips still, drag your cock along the tightness, fill her up until she says otherwise. 

“Makes no sense,” Yunjin huffs, gasping, head halfway in the gutter, trying to form a point. Her hands try to carry out her words, clinging, cock-full at the lean up, foreheads clashing. She whines into your skin, “Jesus- holy shit, dear fucking Christ-” 

You’ll swallow her words and understand her completely. 

Well- to say that her hot cunt is incredible would suffice so much. The more you push, the more the connection feels like it’s meant to be, in all the filth and the intimacy that’s thrown without thinking of the repercussions after. 

You’ll give your praises and thanks - how her pussy grips around your cock so snug and tight and perfect, sing it into the skin and walls around you, paint it over as many times you’d like. To have a girl like her: a muse, with the desire and hunger impossible to resist, make you sink deeper and deeper where it won’t feel suffocating. 

“Yeah?” you hear yourself say. Like you needed to explain yourself again. “Wouldn’t you know it.” 

The strokes. You’re fucking up into her so nicely, give her no chance to breathe, legs hooked around your thighs. She’s opening up her body to you - you’re marking your own territory: shower her face with kisses, suck the skin across her neck, slide your arms underneath her back and keep pounding at the one angle where the trembling reaches her throat, presses her tongue to the back row of her teeth. 

Christ, you really have no care; roughing her up on the kitchen counter right before dinner time. The fan above you two continues to whirr the smoke in the air where it masks the bundle of moans and curses spewing out of her lips. You could feel her fingers drag across your back, keeping herself close to you, fearful that you’ll stop like earlier and make her beg for more until she has her fix. 

“Baby, baby, holy fuck,” you follow her voice, brushed up against your ear, sift your eyes back onto her and watch her loose mouth. She swallows, grazing the crown of her head to yours. “This cock, I fucking love it. I fucking love it so much, I could die here with how you’re-” 

You shut her up, meet in the middle. Line up the beating of your heart to the move of your hips, lock your arms around her back; she’ll come crawling for that high again, blinded by the guarantee of you forcing her orgasm later. 

“Yunjin,” you grit. Nearing that inevitable crash-out. It’s a never ending cycle of madness. Her cunt is eating your cock alive, soaking your waist. You want it all. 

You want her to cum again: this time on your cock; you want to carry her in her arms, fuck your cock without her feet touching the ground; you want her to scream your name so loudly that it breaks the windows around the house. You’ll never have enough of the indescribable body and feeling that she has, ruining you over and over - not to mention her mouth - that too, is another dangerous addiction. 

A fair bout. The fight for who's bolder. Who can make the other person more vulgar by the second. 

These things have been decided right from the start. 

Yunjin muffles a whimper behind her lips, cock clogging up her cunt like she’s backing away, hiding. 

“Need it, need it so fucking much,” she hushes. “You- your cock. Can never get enough of my pretty little cunt - fuck I should just let you fuck me all day, all night, whenever you feel like it.” Her voice is rasped, the words alone sinister: “Warm you up when you least expect it, yeah? You’d like that, don’t you-” She yelps, nose scrunching when you bottom out and press your groin up against her clit, stomach contracting and relaxing as if she’d done five minutes of planking. 

So you drag out and thrust in - slam your hips into hers, holding the motion there, repeating it soon after. Her hand files up to the cabinet door above and shove your cock down to the hottest point, where the wobbles of her waist finally reach up to her tits. 

Because that’s really the only thing there is to it. Brain fucked out to mush with the marks and glistening sweat spread across, remnants of what the short period has passed. 

Like you can’t help yourself. It’s in the enamored looks, the pockets of air siphoned before it’s coughed out, in the blissful enjoyment of fucking your slick cock in and out. “Holy shit,” she’s saying, head toppled off and arm going limp. She saves the energy for other than talking - let the waves of pleasure sweep her body and have you project her thoughts out for her: delirious and maniacal. “I hear- yeah- Okay. Okay, you said it yourself.” 

Of course she agrees, and she knows. Whittled down to the fine rawness of it. What else is there left to say? 

She’s amazingly gorgeous and beautiful - a gift from God himself. You remind her every time like it’s the first. When her lips met the end of your cock months ago, blowing your world away, the stretch of her pussy swallowing you whole and the tension was undoubtedly abysmal. Another second passes a shared breath: Yunjin-god-fucking-dammit, and there’s a bunch of other shit that gets said, listless and nonsensical where the only thing left to do is let the blistering warmth and clashing tongues do all the work for the both of you. 

It’s normal: the way that she clings like she hasn’t seen you for days - leaning back with an arch and quite literally her feet off the ground. 

Every moan sounds punctuated lazily, whining and whimpering and in a pitch where she almost sounds scared. 

Still, she’s lost the plot: “Fuck me.” 

That’s where everything clicks, a flame extinguished and replaced for something new, something profound: her face clenches in the quick swap of pain to relief, when you’ve put your cock at a spot inside where she sobs; the pleasure so intense the both of you exhale in unison, almost like a ‘got you’ moment entirely. 

“Honey,” you say against her cheek, fingers planted in the divot of her lower back, spreading her so well the motion is absolutely seamless, a perfect fit and pace to ruin. “Look at you, so lovely; this fucking cunt feels amazing; oh my goodness.” Your words are making sense, barely, but it’s always on this path since you’ve met the girl; you just can’t help yourself. “I adore this pussy a little too much, don’t you think?” 

“So funny, ah-” she quips, a smile brandished across her lip, eyes rolling to the back of her head, holding on to the last bits of common sense left, knowing well there’s no point. “I’d let you, to be honest. A good deal: my pussy for your cock. Fair trade?” 

“Fuck yes,” is what slips out of your mouth, a truth to savor for eternity. “Want it all.” 

It goes both ways: she wants to peg complete bullshit to you, say her fantasies of how big of a slut she can actually be, fuck that snark out of her until she’s satisfied - but then you watch and listen to the more mundane things she does, and your head can’t comprehend it either. You want her, her mind, her body, the secrets that she keeps locked up in a box sunk in the bottom of a river; things that she doesn’t want anyone to find out about; where the dares of admission only comes once in a blue moon and she tries to pass it along in conversation. 

You could make an endless list as to what makes Yunjin a treasure to behold, to keep - proclaim it out loud like you haven’t done so already - a collapsing, beautiful madness, honestly. She’s holding you so close and you can’t afford to let go. That’s just how it is. All it takes is one look into her eyes and you never want to leave. 

“You’re amazing,” you say to her, breathless. 

Yunjin’s lashes flutter shut immediately after. As if you had to tell her again and again. 

Her hips stay still while yours continue to move, every aftershock sent through her body creates these ridges you’re proud of, ankles to the swell of your ass, clamping around your cock, grinding teeth with her voice croaking: “-good, so good, so fucking good, please, for the love of God-” 

Her upper lip arches the more she inhales, mouth hung open as the moans crumble on top of each other. Most have complained about the increase in occupancy, the hollers of a drinking game, midnight conversations about relationship mishaps and failures, bassline of a song that reverberates on the drywall and the occasional shouting battles that usually ended up stopping after a few minutes. Your neighbors do hear the constant pounding at some point during the day, annoyed and fed up like they didn’t want to have the fun themselves, each thrust bouncing her where her breasts jiggle on the upstrokes, palm full of them, the feel firm and heavy; and you look at her face again - where a certain crease of skin, above her brow, and you know that she’s going to lose it over your cock, how her limbs will surrender willingly, reduced to mush and cradling the fuck through her. 

Yunjin’s arm springs forward over your shoulder. You pull her up, sit upright, body bouncing with her ass well off the counter, the angle primed and ready where the shocks to her ass start to become a cushion, tits wobbling and hypnotic and bouncing; you keep- keep fucking her little hole with no regard for her life. 

It’s right where she wants you to be. 

You’ll lay your flowers later, if you’re even alive to tell the tale: how Yunjin is completely destroyed by your shaft. Her hair frazzled, eyes half open and head tilted towards shame and in the closest iteration of a cocksleeve it could get. She’s so fucked into oblivion where it’s worth having served the verdict. The last moments of light that you want to keep forever, stay as long as you can. 

When her lips meet yours, sweeping: a part of you starts to break beneath the cracks. 

She’s trying so hard to keep a hand to your waist, then the counter, but you’re holding with every bottom out at the base and you entertain the idea where you could go any deeper, fuck her harder- 

“Just-” she pleads, into your mouth, right on your tongue. “Yours. All yours. Fuck me like it’s the only thing that matters-” 

“Jen,” you groan out raggedly, lock your elbows to her chest, matching the drag of her nails. 

“Gonna cum so much,” is what you think she says. “Look at you, such a good boy.” Her pointer finger grazes the line of your jaw. “Plugging me full, I know you love it,” she dryly laughs, lightly pinching your hip when she hears the hint of a squelch of your cock sliding back in her, “this big, fucking cock,” and she’s really not helping you in this situation, claiming you as her own, soul snatched with no hope of returning it: “Pumping and pumping until I can’t get enough. Fuck. You’re so good at this, so fucking naughty. Got you all hard and needy for me - pounding my poor little pussy just to set me right,” this girl is fucking demonic, with the stuff that she’s telling you, her body right there in your hands; you haven’t been thinking straight since you’ve gone down on her - that cunt, her pussy lips gliding your cock with her slick soaking you endlessly- 

“Shut the fuck up,” is what you manage, a futile attempt to stop her. Like it would ever work at all. “Don’t do that. Don’t do this to me.” It’s impossible. You’re so easy to trick, gullible enough to fall for anything that comes out of her mouth, let her take the advantage and leave you with nothing at the end. She believes that you’ve had your fun, and the turn switches back to her. 

“Or what?” Yunjin smiles, nearing bliss. “Wanna cum on me? In me? Use your words, baby boy.” 

You swear, or something close to that. 

The rush becomes too much to bear, the thought of doing what she exactly wants: pulling your cock out of her tight cunt and paint your load all over her stomach, or- the more addicting idea of burying your dick inside her so deep that your release has a one way trip - you simply just- can’t. You shouldn’t. Not because to play it safe, but you’re safeguarding the responsibility of the filthiness that comes with it - what you could do - what you’ve done to her. Instead, you should throw her onto the floor, on her knees, shove your cock down her dirty mouth and cum in her throat or on her face, watch her clean up the mess you’ve made, press the thick tip of your cock on her plump lips and have her taste the sweetness of you. Have her drink it down until she has those doe brown eyes of hers looking up in acceptance. She’s beautiful: in the most fucked up, soaking, ginger-haired possible way imaginable. 

“Let- let me-” you sputter towards a growl, but you can’t keep up with her words and replace it with the pace - how her cunt fits your cock so well like a perfect shoe, lengthy frame detrimental to yours. “Fuck, just let me-” 

“Mhm,” she hums, unfazed. 

“Fuck this slutty little cunt of yours,” you finally manage, and more of a promise already written; you continue to fuck into her, snap your hips in where your balls start knocking above the pucker of her ass, working your cock along those velvety walls, feel the gush with every squeeze of muscle along her pussy, stretching amazingly with the clench. 

“Keep going.” She prods at your waist. 

Oh, she knows where this is going. It’s hot. It’s diabolical. It just feels right. You’re convinced that she’s figured you out, but playing dumb on purpose to see you admit it right in front of her. She sees the quick rise and fall of your chest - your shoulders, fingers grasping pale skin as it turns to something crimson, glance at the devilish smile she possesses that severs all the nerves in your brain: you are so fucking down bad for this woman, and you can’t do anything about it. 

“Keep-” 

“I know,” and you do. 

“Love this. Love you. Love everything that’s happening,” says Yunjin, praising. “Tell me all the things- the things you want to do to me.” 

“Sweetie,” you gasp at the next firm thrust, “gonna put my cock in your mouth, fuck your throat until you choke,” you snap, madness fully consmed, “fuck your holes full and then-” 

Then what? Have her ask to pound her ass? Ride you? Make her scream with the doors wide open? What more could you say or do that isn’t in the cauldron of pure insanity- 

“Use me more,” Yunjin sighs, and that’s the crystal clear thought pulled right out of your cock, “take me, grab wherever, I just need- god, your cum- want your cum so fucking much,” each word in that sentence rising an octave, “Cum,” a simple mantra, a demand. Yunjin’s creaming cunt, filling her up whole, you’re gonna burst inside and she’ll happily accept it as a gift, getting off on the sound ripping through your chest, hips bucking, legs tensing, her lower half quivers beneath you; attitude reduced to soft sounds, you taking full advantage with the fall-off imminent. 

Some of these things, you can’t afford to think; fucked up as it is, it’s better to revel in the silliness and disregard the common sense. 

“Oh fuck,” you hear her breathe, tone low and insanely turned on, her smile already showing she’s won. “Fuck yes-” 

But even if you’re splitting her insides apart, a small fraction of control rests within you, feeling the curves of her body ripple, in a slowing rhythm, pound her cunt for one more second and finally give her the reward. 

A rope of cum is all she gets on the inside; as for the rest- 

“Yes- wait no, fuck- what are you doing?” Yunjin sounds completely in shock for what you’ve committed, snuff the flame out from her pulsing cunt, slide yourself out of the tightness, hold her leg up since she’s too weak to resist. You’re going to hell, but so is she. Painting all over the flat plane of her stomach, coating her pale skin with your cum. “You fucking bitch- that doesn’t belong there,” but she’s too fucked out to do anything about it, and you don’t even bother to dish out a good comeback, let the actions do the talking for you: “Put it back, please, please,” and you do as she says. 

It’s a fresh feeling, the way her warmth envelops your soft cock, holding it so nicely as you help her sit back up properly. Mouth back on you instantaneously. 

“I’m gonna get back at you,” is what she says against your grazing lips, brushing her cheek along the tip of your nose. Her nails lightly scratch your back, ruffles into your hair. “If you’re up for it, you’ll follow.” 

“Challenging me? A bit crude, even for you,” you remark - she grins into your face, slides off the counter, fingers dancing along your slick, softening cock. 

A familiar look in her eyes. Telling you, yeah, I know - underlying the surface, but she’s got her entire hand in every crook of your brain, unfaltering: “We’ll see.” Then she says, “Get your ass on the sofa.” 

–

If there’s anything you learned about Yunjin: she never backs down from her word. 

Oh- and your mouth’s formed in the way she wants it to be. You’ve got it all wrong there, too. 

She tells you to keep your hands on the seat, at the sides and on the ready; impulsively, you want to pick up right where you left off from the kitchen, eyes locked between your legs, her head graciously bobbing up and down, vibrations all over the sensitive surface - feeling the pinching cramp in your backside, tensing the muscle, swallowing the opposite end of you with ease. 

Her lips stop halfway when you raise your hand a bit too high for her liking. 

“Fuck me, Yunjin,” you mutter, watching her sink your cock into her throat. “Don’t do that.” 

Yunjin flashes a glare, flutters her eyelids shut, drags her head back up and gasps. Her mouth is one thing. Her hands? They show you no mercy. You’ve been in this scenario before - a lot of times for some quick context, so tonight isn’t any different. She’s working you tightly at your balls and the base, intending to wring you clean of the release you should’ve left inside her. The one-two punch killer enough to leave you paralyzed from the waist down; she runs her mouth on the tip, tongue tracing a vein and the underside, curling her fingers and stroking so delicately- 

Yeah. You’re pretty much fucked like this. It’s a losing situation. 

Your head falls back while your hips slide forward, turning your body over to her mouth which earns a moan in response. The look on her face is deadly, and the sounds ripping through your chest implicates your high not far to reach. Those fucking plump lips: well parted and sliding all over her spit, moving back up and sinking again, the suction a bit more forceful the second time around, cheeks puffing and hollowing, blinking dutifully. 

She knows how badly you want to fuck her face, shove your cock into her mouth and expect a reward in return. Yunjin knows you want to get there, eventually, pulling herself off and twists your shaft, sees the tilt of your chin to the ceiling, relishing the submission. 

“So fucking hard,” she grins, examining the mix of her spit and slick all over you, listening to the wet noises she created. “I can’t wait to taste your cum again.” 

She’s too good for your own sake, and you can’t fight back on it. 

“Be a good little toy and relax,” Yunjin instructs gently. Puckering her lips and slapping your sensitive head all over them. Soft. Lucious. Sinful. Her innocent blinks fail to cover it, nor the fact how pretty she looks with a pensive expression: it’s evil. “Let me take care of you, okay?” 

You nod right away and she dives back down. Her tongue rubs around the tip between her lips, flattening to slide you into the softness and sleek feeling of her throat, bathing you with spit when your hips produce the slightest hitch. She’s had enough practice with you - to know how her tongue moves in all the ways she knows you love, easily bottoming the whole length like she has before, determined to hear you groan in rapture, and you do. 

“Christ, Yunjin- baby-” you grit, and your head falls back to the head of the couch. 

When she sucks, you flex your ankles forward. The mess worsens before it gets better, streams of drool leaking over your cock. She spreads it around with her mouth, her fingers, palm flattening, her lips fully sealed at the root, her nose digging into your waist. You’re amazed and how well she takes you, holding her head down for a few seconds - that’s the personal trial she set for herself: how long she could keep you there, the flex in her neck, gurgling and choking. It’s also dangerous in the fast switch up from the clamp of her throat to the alternating pace of her flushing your cock in and out, deepthroating you to the point where she can feel your whole body twitch. A pressure point, cutting the line until it’s completely severed. 

You’re sucking so much air into your lungs, creating a pocket at your waist. She pops her mouth off the tip and has the audacity to cackle in your face. 

She’s testing the endurance to it’s limit, her slick hands wrapped well around your shaft when she tends to your balls, getting mouthful of each one and peppering them with licks and kisses, hair pooling over your waist and to your thighs, knowing how good she as at fucking breaking you. There’s no denying that your girlfriend is an irresistible cockslut and personal toy, since the part goes both ways when it’s the right occurrence. Once she’s through the few moments of breathing, her jaw slacks and takes you back in, hearing you huff at the subtle graze of her teeth. 

The moan sputters out on impulse as you get careless and place your hand to Yunjin’s cheek, rubbing a thumb below her eye, and you could see the tick at the corner of her mouth break into a smile. She lifts her head up, giggles at the shudder of your thighs when her teeth taps your cockhead. “Aw, are you worked up already?” 

“More or less,” you answer, and it’s a sudden moment of grace, a blessing in disguise, mind telling the rest of your body to calm down as she slowly jerks you off. “You know me, I wouldn’t back down on your escapades,” and you moan again when she speeds up the pace, “Seriously, it’ll be on you if I cum like this.” 

She kisses your cock and licks. This girl can’t be helped. “What a shame. Hope it doesn’t come to that.” 

“We can do this all night if we have to, so why not?” 

Yunjin lets out a dry laugh. “We will, don’t worry,” she says, carefully pumping you and swipes her thumb over the slit, seeing the thread of precum bridged across, twisting at the middle. “It’s just been a while since we’ve had a conversation while I gave you head.” 

“What’s on your mind this time?” you inquire, playing into the deliberation, “Probably something intriguing, I assume.” 

Yunjin blinks, locks her finger and thumb around the base of your shaft. “You think Kazuha’s fucked a cock like this?” 

You stare, pondering, it takes a second longer for the question to set in because it’s entirely out of left field. “You’re asking me out of all people? How the fuck would I know? She doesn’t bring those kinds of details up with me whenever we talk about it.” 

“But I can’t help but wonder,” Yunjin tuts, hand carelessly sliding around you, nicking her head back. “Have you ever fantasized about your best friend?” 

“Yunjin, that’s just weird. Fuck no-” 

“Aw, you can be honest with me. You and I don’t keep secrets with her as it is, no need to hide.” 

She then tips her head, flickers her eyes up at the heavy sigh your mouth makes when her lips make contact with your cock. Her smile goes even wider, noticing the twitch at your eyebrow, how you’re clenching your teeth and bring your chest up to your shoulders - where she’s managed to work you up with the finesse and enchantment that’s simply exuded from her. 

There’s nothing much for you to do except sitting back and let Yunjin take your whole length into her mouth. No notes or objections for her to hear, but the sticky wet sounds slathering your shaft and your body moments away from finally giving the reward she rightfully deserves. 

“Pretty fucked up sense,” you’re mumbling your head off, moving wisps of her hair out of her face, thinking less and less as she stuffs her throat of you, keeling and leaning forward to where you’re lifting your ass off the couch. “Shit-” 

This is her version of a truth serum, a polygraph; her mouth and hands working beautifully in tandem, her collarbone vanishing into her neck, guiding you to the well-wrapped grip she has with her fingers, fucking you with panache in the hot curves of her throat. 

She loves it when you’re like this: bending to her will and getting you off with the tightest fist. Wringing you clean now that you’ve done the hard work. 

Her hand cups your balls, nails scratching the ridges. The pace she keeps is relentless, alternating from base to tip so excruciatingly well, twisting and jerking and fucking- 

“Mmph?” 

“You’d be surprised if I said yes.” 

Yunjin slides her mouth off once more, spits the underside, lapping up the slick. “No fucking way. You’ve thought about it before?” 

“Predates you, if you want me to be more specific.” 

She flashes the same wicked grin you’ve seen before, tongue tracing a path at the root. Pursing her lips when she inhales, taking in the scent. Legitimately, fuck her. Lashes fluttering heavy with the eyelids, pupils dilating and too faded for you to notice. “If it makes you feel better, I came to that conclusion a while back, just didn’t say anything.” 

“Were you sparing me?” 

Yunjin ticks her lips, still smiling, taking pride at the concurrence. “It is also hot for you to finally confess about her.” Her hand plants firmly at your thigh and you consciously thrust your hips back in, gasping in beautiful bliss. She swallows you back up again, clenching her throat and sealing where you’re blinking a lot more faster this time. That rose colored mouth humming along the skin with every puff of her cheeks, flushing it perfectly like it’s practiced. Her back arches and bends, unfazed with the constant shake of your right leg, all the motions culminating in your muscles and hers, rising and rising- 

“Yeah, okay, alright, I’m- holy shit-” 

“Mmmphphm-” 

Your composure snaps, hand now to her head, a death grip in her hair, fucking her face ruthlessly, drunk at the feeling of her mouth and the obscene gawking noises and the bob of her throat curling your cock, lips smaking and drooling more that you regret not putting a towel on the hardwood floor beneath you two. 

It’s incredibly difficult to internalize, let alone imagine the wish you could capture this feeling for eternity, bring it out from a bottle at the shortest convenience. Yunjin doesn’t falter with the moaning, friction slippery and neurons overloaded, delusion finally high and head still to you - plugging her hot mouth full of your cock, sliding in the smooth muscle, throbbing. 

She takes another deep breath, earning a palm to her face, gaze wistful and deep into your soul. “You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?” 

Damn right you are. 

Yunjin doesn’t need to clarify what she said, since she already knew. Instead, the flicks of her wrist are astonishingly meticulous, amazed that you’re rock solid not just because of her, but rather the thought of Kazuha doing the same thing to you, given with the experience. 

“I think you’re ready,” she declares, and the sentence alone is loaded with different interpretations. 

She doesn’t savor the moment of grace soon after, siphons the breath out of you when she puts her lips back on your cock. Your mind’s no longer there, thinking: Yunjin, Kazuha - the pair doing numerous things to you all at once. Trading your cock between their hot mouths, hands stacked along your shaft, pressing into their slick cunts and watch them keen of being split apart. Yunjin’s sloppy mouth fucking you brings it back to reality, slit leaking and ready to burst. She licks once, twice, thrice, lips wrapped around your cockhead and hand twisting the shaft, aiming in one direction where the load should go. 

Your thighs tense, breathing ragged, shoulders back and chest out when her eyes go wide - shocked at the first thread of cum caught in the roof of her mouth. A pillow falls off from the couch as you’re fighting the urge to push her face away from your hips and that’s when it get worse. 

It hadn’t been that long since you last came, but the surprise was a welcome one when more shots of white start spilling over your stomach, her hands, her face, on her button nose, your shaft twitching in her hands when she hovers her mouth over your tip and seals it to safeguard remnants of the damage. 

“Yunjin, fuck- oh, fuck-” 

“Mmm,” she hums gleefully, licking the mess off of you and squinting at the leaking slit, pulsing out more. Your cock softening again and body in a complete mess, fingertips carefully moving on your belly and brain falling in and out of consciousness. “Oh my god. You came so fucking much.” 

She nuzzles her face into your side, observing your chest calming down: “didn’t think I had more in me.” And that’s pretty ironic coming from you. “Congrats, babe. Consider me dead.” 

“There’s more where that came from,” replies Yunjin, orange hair swirling over your shoulder. “We’re even now.” 

Doesn’t get any better than that, really. The score stands at one-to-one. 

–

“By the way,” Yunjin starts off again, spent and roughed up on the mattress after going back to back rounds a little less than thirty minutes later. First in the shower and the second on the bed; a restoration to the pecking order, actually on the same page. “She drunkenly confessed to me about it while you were gone one night. Poor girl can’t keep a secret. I felt bad.” 

“Her loss, honestly. Sucks to be her for having the issue.” 

“You don’t think it’s a problem.” 

“Well that depends on your solution.” 

“Well,” says Yunjin, expectant. “I was gonna propose-” 

(You can kind of see where this is going.) 

“-maybe the both of us could- y’know, deal with her as we see fit.” 

“Meaning?” 

“Emulate a porn plot towards her, the typical one where the girlfriend shares with her best friend.” 

You plop on the mattress, tilting your head. 

“Like a collaborative effort?” You’re then asking; the thought not too far-fetched, but still brazenly out of her mind. Even for Yunjin’s standards. “What’s worse is the idea of you sharing me? With Zuha? I swear you were possessive about me, where did that go?” 

Yunjin bends her leg up against yours, brushing a thigh before her knee nestles at your waist. Nothing but smooth, soft skin just there for you to touch, to feel, and just- right on your lap. 

“Consider us sharing. Communal, I guess.” Her brain’s working next to you, then it hits. “A communal cock for the both of us.” She snorts, bursts out laughing once she’s created the twisted hypothesis. “Our cock. Kazuha and I. Please, tell me you’re loving the idea.” 

“I don’t hate it,” you’re stating, hand slipping lower to the swell of her ass. There you go again: thinking about Kazuha and Yunjin together. It’s supposed to be a silly theory. 

“So, will you help me? Unless there’s something I don’t know about.” 

“I’m not really in a position to say no, but I’ll let you do your thing.” 

“Take that as a yes, then,” Yunjin rests a cheek along your chest, prompting you to move your other arm around and fully embrace her, paying no attention to her kneecap pressing up against your balls, “you wouldn’t want to hear my plan to get our girl set up for what’s coming?” 

“You can brief me sometime later.” Another thing added to the agenda, with the rest of the responsibilities filling up your notifications and inbox. “Unless you want to surprise me.” 

Yunjin squints her eyes, purses her lips at you the next second; fingers dancing along your jaw, your throat. “If that’s what you want,” she concurs, retrieving your hand to her hip. “One more for the night?” 

“Don’t blame me if you can’t walk the next morning.” 

And so she gets herself off like that. Your cock in Yunjin’s hand and pressed up against the skin, feel the rush of her pussy lips coating you in slick. Her fingers too dainty and delicate, precise at the touch. You’re alternating from slipping inside her hot cunt - eventually stuck between her impossibly tight thighs crushing the shaft. 

Your throat and hers rumble low, locking legs and letting the hinged hips do their own thing, listening to each other’s nuances of groans and curses and names traded until the overdue exhaustion following the pleasure washes over you two. Yunjin’s face is dazed, relaxed and satisfied with the spill between her legs, her whole body wrapping around you; conserving the heat in any way she can - even if it means to sink your cock back into your cunt. 

You’re hoping the next wet dream you have turns into reality. 

–

A quick look into the inner lens of manifests and proclamations: most of the intents are put in a good light. Speak it into existence and great things will soon come its way - that type of thing. 

When you want something - you’re holding your breath for what’s to happen. 

As for Yunjin, it’s quite the opposite: 

“Imagine all the ideas you could have if you just- let it happen?” She’s on your back and flipping pancakes, breath tickling your ear and putting her down becomes a favorable option than the latter. “Look at it this way, Party A can only take action if the conditions are met in agreement with Party B.” 

“Please allow me to ask, but who the fuck is Party B?” You swivel in place and swing Yunjin’s long legs around the kitchen, the wrap of her arms hooking deeper at your neck. 

“I’m not answering that,” Yunjin says, foot to your thigh and altering your attention to a low-ponytailed Kazuha sitting across, ready and raring to go for her run. 

Kazuha looks dumbfounded, lost, predictable. “What are you guys talking about a Party B?” 

“Huh?” you and Yunjin say in unison. 

“Huh?” Kazuha repeats the utterance. 

Then all three of you say: “What?” Queue the laugh track - somebody, please. 

“Enough of this,” you declare, setting Yunjin down so she can finish cooking the meal. You glance at the glowing screen of your phone, see a few new messages pop up, and a notification from one of the places you applied to. “Crap,” you then say, realizing what’s on the attachment, “It got moved up?! Gotta run.” 

“You too, hm?” Kazuha chides, with an eye smile and a slice of banana in her mouth. “Cute.” 

“Make sure you bring your lunch with you, honey!” Yunjin yells while you blitz back into the bedroom to get changed. “Can’t own the interviews on an empty stomach!” 

–

Various managers you keep in touch with praise your skills and determination, saying that you would be a good fit for the team. It’s a waiting game now; only a matter of time before someone steps forward, claims you as theirs. 

Some places you’re fielding calls from, shortening the list. You’re forwarding it back to home base: hit or miss for today’s adventures, thinking about taking either minnie’s offer or sian’s.

Yunjen 💟: i loooove sian! miss that girl so much (;-;)

Yunjen 💟: pls say yes to her next time, for me? 🥺

🍑: u forgot ur water bottle at home, idiot 🥸

You: great, now i gotta wash it because you touched it

🍑: you’re really bout it today, huh?

🍑: i’m gonna kick your ass when you get back 

You: please, whatever you throw, i’ll catch

Yunjen 💟: aw, i won’t be there to see you school her in mario kart again 😭😭😭

🍑: if i can beat your ass at racing, jennifer, i can def beat him 

🍑: u think too low of me. 

Yunjen 💟: you two play nice now, i’ll be back by dinnerrrr

Yunjen 💟: let me know how it goes 

–

Kazuha greets you at the door, sighing with disappointment, like she owns the place - that’s partly true: she pays for half the rent but always forgets until you remind her. 

“What’s with the look?” you ask flatly. 

“Nothing,” she shrugs, face tugged to a scowl. “Just thought that you’d be back in high spirits after landing the job.” 

“Results don’t come that fast,” you remark, following her in the apartment, feet scruffing and leggings skin tight around her figure. Hair clumped together after being tied for a long period. “They said that they’re gonna do one more week of evaluations and see from there.” 

“Meaning?” 

“I get the job, which means more money; if not, we keep looking.” 

Kazuha chuckles, settling herself on the couch with her legs curled, watches as you drop your things and join soon after. “Is this the part where I ask how your day was like old times?” 

“Zuha, I’m gonna walk right out that door if you do. Please don’t.” 

“Not even this once?” 

You stare at Kazuha’s delighted wink, rolling her eyes back and cringing. “Well shit, my day hasn’t been that interesting either, thanks for asking.” She says, palm sliding down her face with a sheepish smile. “Can’t even have drinks until Yunjin gets back.” 

“What’d you suggest we do for the meantime?” 

Kazuha grabs the controller, treating it like a deck of cards for a party trick. She lifts her eyebrows, tempting. 

“You weren’t kidding.” you say, amazed. 

“Unless you have a better idea,” she drawls, shaking it to double down the offer. “What, too much of a pussy to play me?” 

“You’re on. Give me the other controller.” 

–

Full disclosure aside. 

Moments like these with Kazuha have always been the usual bread and butter for you two to bond over on. With the amount of years carried in between - part of you has imagined what it would be like if the relationship label found its way to you two instead of the opposite. 

(You remember it vividly, the brief period was short lived for a few months after keeping the emotions at bay for a long ass time. Going into high school was the usual phase where the feelings aren’t exactly certain, and eventually change. She could’ve left you out of her life then, but didn’t. Attached wasn’t the right word you or her would say, though, you’re glad she stayed either way.) 

Even after she started to come out of her shell, be talkative, get more active, fit in clothes that make you and every other horny guy on campus drop their jaws at, she’s still the same girl you met back in kindergarten: a true friend at your side going places, while also doing stupid stuff for the fun. 

“This goddamn blue shell, I swear to god-” 

As for you, well- you’ve got tunnel vision, deathly locked to the screen, blocking all outside noise and focusing on the mario character and the amount of asphalt you got on the tires. Kazuha was all up in your ear, talking about how she managed to build a gap after a poor start on your end with the amount of bananas being tossed up track and dropped along the kerbs. She also thought racing at 200cc was a great idea - when in reality she’s only raced nothing above 50cc. 

She’s using every trick in the arsenal: the hand to your face, kicking your side; hell, even covering your end of the screen if it meant being in last place. Her definition of victory was seeing you not succeed. 

All in all, it was a good way to have fun. 

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” she asks, when she’s fully calmed down and actually playing properly. “That night where you had to pick me up from the kickback,” her body leaning with the steering motion of the kart when the controls were strictly to the joystick. “No one told me I didn’t get hooked up with anybody.” 

“Because you didn’t.” you say tiredly. Explaining the gauntlet she gave you to bring her back home safely. 

You’re finishing first ahead of Kazuha - the girl can’t drive in real life as it is. 

Her legs cross over yours, paying no attention to the spread of her toes and flex of her calves. Heel grazing your crotch before resting along your thigh, fighting the urge to break composure and adjust yourself. “Hmph, that’s a shame. Since you did see me drunk after all-” 

“Happens multiple times than I would like to count,” you’re saying mildly, glancing, “I was also hoping that Sakura would take you home instead of Eunchae calling me.”  

“Is that what happened?” Kazuha asks, and it abrupts your thoughts quickly. “Sorry- I know I asked the morning after but - still don’t remember much.” 

You look away, down to your hips. Your mind and body clearly not in sync. 

Which begs the question: “So, what do you actually remember? From that night?” 

The answer she gives goes in one ear and out the other. Vividly telling you the details. 

“You’re not very slick about me; you know that, right?” Kazuha concedes. And you agree, completely cornered.

“What do you want me to do about it?” 

“Gonna keep talking?” 

“Please, I can do more than just talk.” 

Kazuha bites her lip, pulls her legs back, shakes her head, the intent easy for you to read. There’s a few shared secrets with her you’d like to keep. 

What’s one more thing to hide from Kazuha and Yunjin? 

–

Think of it this way, racing’s got a lot to offer: the thrill, the rush, the risk. Kazuha loves to put you in the dust; always making you chase until you’ve got one over her. She’s screwed you over in other lifetimes - including this one - but, it’s worth noting the exception: a rare occasion where you’re back at the starting line and finishing all the same. 

Kazuha doesn’t look over her shoulder often; disregards the terror she leaves behind without a care, and you ought to remind her where it lands as soon as you can. 

“Jesus christ-” is what leaks out of her lips, biting down another moan in her throat. You cup her chin and force the look up, hands slipping on the glass. “Your fucking cock is just-” 

Amazing? Well, she took the words from Yunjin, and you know.

It’s extravagantly fucked up: turning back time as if it was yesterday - you’re railing her in the shower, warm water falling from above, steam fogging up beneath. 

She sure knows how to make you shut up, just like old times, and a small part of you wishes how things might’ve been different if you or her if you said something back then, but you’ll let your bodies do the talking - her cunt clenching around your shaft, skin rippling the water off with every wet slap in, hand reaching for your thigh for stability. You’re just holding on and having her do most of the work in throwing her ass back, begging you for more, press her against the wall, take your cock like she always does - she may treat you like shit in the most affectionate way possible, but that layer is stripped entirely if her heart and mind allowed it. You’re going to fuck her pretty cunt, make her remember that night where she got herself off with you watching and act like nothing happened despite the raw marks of red on her creamy skin. 

That too, and she’ll be a pain in your ass still: “What’s wrong? Worried Yunjin will walk in on us?” 

“Kind of counting on it,” you relent, and she hunches. You pull her back up and feel her breath hit your chin. “Who knows? Maybe she’d want to join us.” 

“You think so?” Her arms flush with the tile. 

“If you’ve forgotten,” you manage, bracketing her waist - grip hard enough to make her yelp, and you’re loving every second. She’s a brat and a bitch and a slut rolled up into one; someone who has no care for others, except - oh, right; you’ve put up with it long enough. It’s the perfect opposite. “You’re the one who made the first move.” 

“That’s bullshit and we both know it,” she denies, dishonored and deflective, so you drag your hips and push back in, grab her face, watch her jaw go slack. “Oh god. Baby, yes-” 

The water’s streaming down her chest, her abs, spraying off to the walls and glass - you snake your hand to her neck, a muscle memory: everything else is an easy line to follow. 

One of her legs are lifted for you to hook, so that you can reach the familiar angle you’ve lost the feeling for too long, where you’ve made her scream, swear out more obscene stuff. She’s bracing herself along the wall properly when you’ve slid your cock back inside her; she’s groaning a lot louder now, tensing, moaning - you’re supporting her and she’s taking it like you promised, her head bobbing all over the place, mouth canted, skin flushed hot-pink. A smile breaks at the corner of her lips. It’s the easy position, the natural flow of motion, keeping pace, a simple solution to a problem - all of the qualifications applied in different situations. Except, your hands find themselves on the rise of her hips, ass hypnotizing you all over your eyes; she’s leaking on your cock, cunt split open and ready to ruin - and you think you’ve finally won the argument, somewhere hidden past the heavy breathing. 

“Fuck- fuck me. Oh- shit- ah-” spills out, and it’s another win to take in, soaking the moment of bliss - that’s so fucking good, i’ve missed this so much, keep going, yes- right there, harder - she’s lost her mind entirely. 

You shouldn’t be grinning wickedly, but you are - it’s relieving in bend a girl like her to your will who can’t hold herself to the end. 

“The worst kind,” she’s huffing, gasping, mewling, trying so hard to keep her posture up while you work her towards the orgasm she’s been asking for since her feet skimmed over the bulge in your pants, playing it off like nothing terribly as it’s a routine for her. You’re aware that she’s probably touched herself while you and Yunjin fucked throughout the night. The walls around here are thin as it is, and so much for that. 

You don’t let up, fucking her hard and fast, like she wanted - praising you for finally breaking that unspoken rule left behind years ago and promise to keep it on the low. You and her both knew it would happen again eventually. How could you not? Just one little change of impulse and you’re on the one way track to hell. 

(Don’t act like this wasn’t your doing, either.) 

“I don’t hate,” she says, urging, whining and whimpering and you’re dying to hear more of it for her - “please, just- it’s incredible, I fucking love it, this fucking cock- all for me-” 

You grab a handful of her slick hair and yank, watch the arch in her spine rise, the fluttering eyelids and shape of her mouth. Kazuha drops her jaw even lower and winces when you pound her pussy deeper; the imaginary line in your head fades with the steam. She’s clenching tightly around your shaft, and you know that this won’t be a singular occurrence. She’s gonna be coming back for more, becoming addicted, clingy. “You like? S’that feel good?” you’re asking anyway, waiting to hear the same answer. 

You want this to last. Her cunt quivers around your length, clamping. You’ve fucked her through the first orgasm, onto the second or third, neither of you are keeping track - you’re chasing for your own - but there’s a sense of grandeur to this, in addition of the gratification to the reward from watching how astonishlingy you can dick her down and put her back in her place. 

Kazuha’s putting effort where it counts. Says: “Need- I need it- fucking christ, please, do it already-” And - fuck, not in a polite way, but good note for trying. 

Kazuha sobs along with a low huff that’s one of the hottest things you’ve heard from her in a while - a long time - contracting and expanding and clenching around you. Great job, baby. You did a good job keeping up with me. I don’t mind you cumming first. I’d prefer to finish second. Holy shit, you don’t realize how long it’s been since you stepped in the shower, mind focusing on Kazuha and legitimately nothing else. 

“Shh, shh,” you’re saying, a finger to her lips, feel her tongue run against the side of it - and the nod is small, but you’re thinking ahead to what she’ll do next. 

You pull yourself out and slap the tip on her pussy lips, listen closely to the squelch when you slip in again, deeper. You can’t tell if the water on her face is from the shower head or her tears, trickling down as her mouth meets yours. God, her kisses are just like the first ones. 

“Gonna cum again?” you ask, delicately. “You are. Let it out.” 

And Kazuha can breathlessly say yes without the words - she’s cumming, cumming, and wants to show you how badly. You could spend a few more minutes here, conserve the water. Paying the bill and next rounds of games can wait. 

–

There’s no complexity behind it. The sun comes up and the world still spins. 

Some days, Kazuha flutters to you - bare cunt underneath her shirt and you’re catching a second glance. Slaps your ass like every other time and expects you to bring it up later. Which you do. 

Or- 

You’re taking her by surprise, as some lousy excuse to pin her down on the nearest hard surface within reach, perch her hips up to yours until you have to carry her to the shower or bed - only for the mess to come back around again. She tugs the ends of the panties, faintly smacking on her skin, wiggles her perky ass and touches her hair - bundles it up in her hands, her slender back towards you and another spot to deal with some other time. 

“You sure you don't want Yunjin to know?” She asks, snapping you out of your daydream. 

With a quirk of your lips, “Maybe she already knows. But if I speak, I’d be in big trouble.” 

Kazuha tsks. “So wrong for you to leave her out of the fun.” To be fair, she’s more right than wrong. If you were honorable enough to tell the truth, you could’ve told Yunjin to commensurate something with the shared dynamics - albeit way more confusing than it is, because it’s all just for fun, a wacky journey with no destination. 

A rerun of you, fucking Kazuha into puddled pile of pure putty, watch her eyes shimmer when you cum in her mouth, in her hair, paint her pussy with your mess and see her relieved - a deal slipped under the table, unspoken. Yunjin might’ve swapped roles with her in being gullible or oblivious to the signs now - or even back then, you’re not quite convinced. Bottomline: you’ve missed this version of Kazuha. It’s a nice switch up and a way to disconnect and destress from the pressures of the outside world, sheltering and confining yourself since that’s always the best option to have - besides, there’s some work to do still: you got the notice of the final evaluation, from both jobs at the top of your list, somewhat nerve wracking. You’ll have to make a decision, find what fits best for you, which one pays more. Maybe get a second opinion from Yunjin or Kazuha. 

You’ll figure it out as you go along. 

–

When you do ask Yunjin about your little dilemma, part of her attention is on you - at a distance. 

She’s too busy watching Phantom of the Opera after you ate her cunt out while her hourly reading earlier in the day, only because she kept teasing you underneath the desk while on call with the same friend who managed to land a position at their new job. Relax, they’re saying at the time, don’t worry too much and just be ready for what’s to come. 

“Huh? Sorry, ask me again,” Yunjin’s telling you, chin on her shoulder and glances over at you at the kitchen preparing dinner. “The actress’s high note caught me off guard.” 

Kazuha laughs, sitting on the counter and at your side, peeling off lettuce for her salad - proximity minimized to where your hand’s grazing her thigh. “Are you sure Sian’s job is the right one for you?” she asks, rephrasing the question as her own. “I mean, you say you liked the offer from her.” 

“Possibly,” you answer, slicing a carrot, placing the knife down. “She told me she’ll call sometime tomorrow to confirm.” 

“Makes sense,” Yunjin supplies. “Good pay. Office isn’t far, convenient. Also on the fact that she’s pretty to be a manager or in charge? Heavy on the pretty, though.” 

“Right,” you agree, looking at Kazuha, fingers slipping over the rise of her thigh and in. You quirk your eyebrow in suspicion, noticing the lack of underwear (once again) and her folds already soaking. “She really is pretty.” 

Kazuha bites her lip, dips her head down. 

“I think I've made up my mind,” you say, pushing- sliding deeper in, quirk your lip in a ‘shh’ so that Kazuha can keep her voice low. “Might’ve been a pure choice from the start.” 

“You think so?” Yunjin says, puzzled. “That was easy.” 

You and Kazuha both give a confused look at her. Knuckles curled in Kazuha’s walls, inconspicuous and hidden - a familiar reflex and motion of the hand. She’s so slick for you, it’s unfathomable. A whimper rumbles within her chest, and you cough loudly to cover the sound. 

Yunjin glances over for a third time. “Everything okay there?” 

Kazuha sniffles, seamlessly playing along without a proper cue. “The onions,” you’re saying, sheepishly grinning like a dumbass. “Zuha got the first wave of them.” To that, Yunjin laughs, wiggling her head the other direction. “Should’ve been helping me over here instead.” 

“I would,” replies Yunjin, waving her hand up in the air. “But my legs have lost their feeling. Wonder whose fault is that.” 

You shrug your shoulders and carry on your work at the counter. 

–

You’re fielding calls from the shortlist, waiting for one contact. 

Then the phone rings. 

Greetings are exchanged and it’s right down to business: “Drop by the office later. It’ll be brief, I promise. Just checking in one last time on how you feel about the offer.” Sian’s telling you. “Apologies for making you wait.” 

“Nonsense,” you’re beaming, swiping through your belongings and whatever you can fill in your hand. “Wasn’t doing much besides keeping myself busy.” 

Soon you’re on the way out of the door, noticing a box next to your shoes. You don’t remember ordering anything in the past few days, so that theory is eliminated automatically. Yunjin’s made her way to see you off, arms crossed and partially excited. 

You pull your phone away, pointing to the package. You’re mouthing the curiosity, and Yunjin nods. There’s not much to assume: it’s probably a new batch of books for her to read, or some clothes. You don’t suspect much.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be on my way now. See you soon.” 

–

(The interview goes exactly as Sian said it would. 

She’s telling you about the perks about the office and benefits within the first few months. They’re all really good, you can’t deny that. Not to mention the signing bonus. You can’t stop smiling at the new opportunity, ecstatic for what’s in store. 

You’re driving home later and feel like the sun’s burning a little bit brighter than usual - clouds filling up the endless blue sky. 

An attempt is made to call Yunjin, but no answer. You try Kazuha too, no luck. 

There’s the simple assumption that they’re both busy and they’ll see the missed calls before you get back.

A cleared schedule opens up a lot of things.) 

–

Everything seems a lot easier when there isn’t a weight on your shoulders, relieved of stress and the only current worry is hobbling back to your bed and sleeping there for the rest of the day. You click the deadbolt out of place and swing the door open, letting yourself in. “I’m home,” you’re calling out, slipping out of your shoes and the bag gets placed next to the small table where the keys go. “Genuinely thought it was going to take longer-” 

You freeze your movements when you hear the spill of moans close by. 

Because you peek the corner like a kid waiting for Santa Claus - but instead of seeing a red man placing gifts and stealing milk and cookies, you see Kazuha leaning back on the kitchen counter, sitting on the chair with someone else on top of her, leaving fresh marks it could be mistaken of her being bitten from a vampire - the person on top presses her hips up, diving down to her neck, pushing and yanking before you realize she’s getting fucked by- 

“Yunjin, what the fuck!?” you exclaim. 

Yunjin rests her head on Kazuha’s chest, fingers clasping to her shoulder - you’ve seen that wicked look on her face before, devilish and corrupt. Now, in your place: it’s Kazuha pulling her close, tilting her head back when Yunjin shifts her hips up between Kazuha’s legs, dragging out another moan. 

“Welp, I guess we got caught,” says Yunjin, and her strap-on slips out of Kazuha in one simple pull. 

Clearly, you’re confused, bamboozled. Yunjin’s coming back to her senses as she swipes a hair behind her ear, playing the innocent role poorly and none of it makes sense, at all. Your girlfriend and roommate - roommate and girlfriend, and you start to remember- 

“Thought I said that I wasn’t finished,” Kazuha sputters, oblivious of your presence. She’s sitting back up on the chair and clinging to the edge of the counter. “You told me that I’ll have my turn with the strap when you’re done - we barely started.” She’s hitting Yunjin’s arm, hair falling over and panting erratically. “Yunjin, please-” 

“Zuha,” Yunjin taps Kazuha’s shoulder, flicks a finger towards you - authoritative and calm. “I think we have other things to worry about. Also hey hi, I didn’t hear the door open or you walk in.” 

“Well I did,” you say, walking further inside and assessing the scene. Kazuha then sees you in her view and her jaw drops, both shocked and disappointed. “Didn’t want to interrupt your fun little session going on here.” 

“She knows about-” Kazuha tries to speak, covered by Yunjin’s hand, and stops her sentence. 

“You? Us?” you ask. 

“Should’ve told me sooner,” Yunjin butts in, unimpressed with a smirk. “I didn’t expect you’d have a headstart with my suggestion.” 

“Guilty as charged.” 

“Mmfph,” Kazuha tries to say, but the press of Yunjin’s hand is a lot more firm. She’s lost her talking privileges for now. This wasn’t even the worst bit of this incident, you think. 

You’re sighing, undecided, at a crossroads: two girls on your shoulders with very similar,  contrasting perspectives and ideals. Yunjin’s the purest of angels in human form, Kazuha the devil’s advocate living in your house. The thought of you being walked in by Kazuha with Yunjin on your cock was a thing of the past. With Yunjin’s strap filling up Kazuha- 

“How do you suppose we deal with her?” You’re asking, playing into the role of second fiddle to Yunjin’s wishes, wherever she wants to take them, burying your nose into her hair and looking down at Kazuha’s eyes light up in excitement. 

“I think you can help me with that,” declares Yunjin, and for the thousandth time it’s something you’re following through. “Give this girl a proper work up for once.” 

“With pleasure.” 

“But first-” 

“First?” 

Kazuha’s body tenses. “Mmrph??” 

Yunjin’s head dips, licking her lips. Her fingers tap the fabric of your crotch. “Not yet,” she sighs, and she’s teasing the pink head of plastic on Kazuha’s folds. “Actually,” Yunjin’s hearty laugh gives you an idea where this is going, and it’s not looking pretty. “We’re gonna have you watch.” 

–

Where do you even begin with these two? That’s the golden question. 

Think of it this way, a coming of age story would have all the highs and the lows, a sunset drive into the horizon with the top down and music blasting for everyone else to hear, romanticizing both the achievements and shortcomings of each character, tossing snacks to each other and clinking glasses while letting the end credits roll. 

Kazuha and Yunjin, however, lock lips at the couch; you’re breathing deep - you’re slipping down the chair, not quite shameful that you’re not in the act. 

Maybe it’s the fantasy written up in your head - in its purest form and in real time. The ambiance settling down to a space meant to be locked away; shelved behind a drawer and door, never to be seen in the light of day, exclusively for your eyes only. 

Yunjin tilts her head one side with Kazuha on the other, playing along well. Everything about it is down to the last vivid detail: her fingers carding into her hair, gripping, pulling her head up so Kazuha can get more air - slip an arm underneath the arching back and bring her leg up against her heat. You give Yunjin a look when she locks eyes with you, paying no attention to Kazuha peppering her cheek with more kisses and clearly asking for more, giggling as she indulges her request. Their hands trailing all over their unclad bodies, miles of skin between them. They both sigh in relief, finally showing what they cherished the most with each other. There’s no regrets of your actions: you’ve got a piece of Yunjin - what she’s like, same for Kazuha from another period lost to time, but it’s all culminated to this. Soon you’re towering the pair and see the crimson and sweat spread across, willing to have your fill be satisfied by both.

If your sympathy was a knife, you’d turn the blade around and twist it inside yourself. 

Kazuha’s hand grips the belt loop, grinning. Yunjin tugs your hand to her face, kissing it. Wraps her plump pretty lips on your thumb. An unspoken testament of what’s to come. The credence of raw, unfiltered, sin. 

“Is this what you wanted?” Yunjin asks, very silently. Kazuha opens her neck up as an invitation. 

“Oh,” you breathe, softly. Kneeling down at the couch and exchanging glances. “You have no idea.” 

(Show me everything. Show us everything, they said, partially devious. How bad your impurities are. We want it all. We deserve it all.) 

–

Maybe all of this was the long-awaited culmination; Kazuha’s mind is so far gone, back pinned against the wall like she knows you and Yunjin are about to ruin every part of her body. Clothes are being slipped off your frame, pooling onto the floor and soon to be ignored till the next morning. Yunjin’s hands graze your middle, feeling the hardened muscle - sighing into your neck and flashes a look across. 

“Should I know how long you two kept this from me?” she asks, half-curious. Well aware of the answer. 

You keep your gaze on Kazuha while pulling your head back - observing, but flicking your eyes back and forth. “Would it be best to hear it from the person responsible?” you say, seeing Kazuha’s face shift from her to yours and unsure who to choose. 

“Figured there were signs,” Kazuha answers, lifting her leg up at the crease of her knee, giving an implication. It’s not a pressure point - not yet, at least - an angle where you can jump in and double down on. “If they weren’t obvious enough.” 

“Are we seriously playing dumb here?” Yunjin then follows up, twisting her head. “Right now? Of all times?” 

“Choose your words wisely,” you’re saying, towering over the girl in your arms - a subtle warning. 

“You’ll be a good girl, yes?” Yunjin adds. “Then we’ll see if you deserve it.” 

Kazuha snickers, sound bouncing off the hallway, and you and Yunjin both sigh in dejection - though, Yunjin slaps Kazuha’s thigh, prompting you to pin her lower half to the drywall. “I see we’re at a bad start already,” she’s saying, and her arm slithers up to your chest, “you keep acting like this, Zuha, we’re gonna have some issues. Not to mention,” she’s rambling, taking a step back to open the space in flipping Kazuha around with her back in view, arms up instinctually and hips moving back, Yunjin’s arms crossed over her chest with the strap-on in her hand, instigating. “I think it’s best if he takes the first crack in breaking you.” 

“How generous,” you tell her, leaning down to kiss the fine line of Kazuha’s spine. “I thought you’d be more cruel.” 

Yunjin grins, finger to her teeth. “That’s more of your thing rather than mine.” 

“Liar,” you growl, and it’s a small reveal of your true intent, bringing them close and never letting go - your arm pulls Yunjin back in, gasping at the sudden move. Yunjin giggles, teetering into a small moan; you look down and she takes the hint in feeling Kazuha’s ass, listening to the hitched breaths, see the slightest scrunch of her shoulder. “Don’t think that you can hide away from me, either,” And you slap your hand firmly on the fresh skin, Kazuha slipping out a yelp in response - “I know you want your fun as well, baby.” Your thumb and index pinch both of her cheeks, squishing. “Unless you’d prefer to watch.” 

“You know me. I’ll have my go if you’re willing.” 

“I’m still down here,” interrupts Kazuha. “Why don’t you-” 

Here was the perfect time to show Kazuha again what you’re made of - you grip both of your hands to the swell of her hips, pushing them up until all of her chest is flush with the wall in front - her hand flies back to yours; clawing the skin on your arm, your hips- 

“Watch it,” you snarl, grabbing her wrist and putting it along the small of her back, hoping to break the tension. Technically, she’s doing the opposite. 

She squirms in your hands for a few more seconds, resisting. The grunts coming out of her mouth don’t apply to you; Kazuha’s feet skating across the floor, widening the stance, spilling out pleas- 

“Fucking swear to God,” she harshly swears, and you’re with her; Yunjin’s taking another step back, leaning. She can’t help but smile at the authority, the general hierarchy you’re used to giving her. Throwing out orders and demands - Kazuha with her insightful snarks, nowhere to be heard or seen as she’s finally getting a taste of her own medicine- 

Both of Kazuha’s arms are behind her back. She’s helpless once you’ve finally got a hold on her. 

“How long is it gonna take you to fuck me or force me to watch you fuck Yunjin instead?” she whines, persistent. Her hands cup the sides of your hips, pushing her ass back - you don’t fight it, laser focused on her face. “Didn’t realize that we’re dishing out my punishment like this right off the bat.” 

“We’re getting there,” you agree, and you’re palming her breast beneath the shirt, clumping up the fabric - thumbing a nipple and pinching. “Yunjin will have her fun too when I’m done with you.” 

You look right at Yunjin and she nods. 

She’s keeping herself occupied with the strap-on in her hand, putting her pouty lips on the silicone tip, licking shamelessly and her other hand to her legs - cheeks flushed in a hot pink and eyes trained on you. You’d expect her to watch - let her have her own fun in the meantime. She’s so good; fucking you and Kazuha both, though it’s somewhat on par or incomparable to the roughing up you’re gonna do to Kazuha as a means of staying true to your word. Her tongue laves the side of plastic, lowers it down to her hips, hoping to tease and have that ache sated until her turn comes along to be taken, fucked mercissely, ruthlessly.

You lift a brow for the final confirmation, and Yunjin matches it. 

“You can watch of course, baby,” you say, and Yunjin’s face lights up. “Go ahead, do what you need to do.” 

Yunjin twists her back to the wall, head tilted while her legs spread wider to welcome the space of the strap-on between her legs - you’ve curled your arm around Kauzha’s hip, rub her clit from that angle, stroking slowly at her leaking slit; so yeah, this girl leaks sex. As for you: you’re eating it up. Knowing that there’s another pair of eyes on you, greedily staring once you get on one knee, place a trail of kisses to the backside of Kazuha’s thigh, bundle up the oversized shirt in your hands. You hook your palms to the fold of her legs, brush your nose in her cunt, taste the droplets on your tongue- 

“Are we observing?” You ask Yunjin. “Not the first time I’ve seen you use a dildo in front of me.” Your mouth sucks in the dripping slick of Kazuha’s pussy, earns you a sharp inhale through her teeth. Biting down on one of her folds and pulling. “I wanna see you ruined before I have the chance myself.” 

Your gaze shifts back to Kazuha because you know Yunjin will follow whatever you say. Even when your cock is brushing up against Kazuha’s slit, pushing in her pussy and the girl sings a broken note. 

Kazuha, by instinct, tilts her head down, overwhelmed, choking on the bob in her throat; all it takes is one firm snap of your hips in and it’s not enough time to get accustomed to the stretch - that deep, open stretch, her cunt pressuring you so tight, addicting - you’re amazed at how she can pick up things quickly, breathing steadily with every stroke, see her eyes at the corners, upping the intensity, twisting her head back forcefully and curve the arch a bit more deeper- 

A makeshift ponytail is created without a second thought, locking the stare in and keeping it frozen, failing to maintain composure when she’s moments away from finally breaking in front of you, or Yunjin. Kazuha’s pride is always one thing she holds close. Snuff it out of her and there’s nothing, and she can’t deny it: the way that she’s trying so hard to not be a completely needy, slutty bitch. 

“What’s wrong, huh?” you’re taunting - imitating her snark - man, it’s so nice not to be on the receiving end in one of those. “Wasn’t this the punishment you asked for? Well guess what?” You’re grasping at her cheek that it brushes yours. “It’s here, Zuha. Just me, you, Yunjin, and your dirty little cunt, all for us to have.” 

“All talk, still,” Kazuha remarks, syllables barely stable. She’s so shrunk down over your presence that when your cock is in play, it splits her body in two, crumbling her: she can spit out words for days, but knows that she’s vulnerable in a fight. “You’re not even putting effort into me. Fucking christ- asshole. Just-” 

You can’t help but chuckle - actually laugh, because the insults don’t hurt like they used to back then, that added layer in the dynamic where you’ll take the punch and send it right back. You’re slamming your hips in, press your fingers into her hip; Kazuha can keep giving you shit, but you see her head hit the drywall, eyes lidded and mouth quirked to keep it all in. There’s no point - she’s gushing on your cock, clamping. 

“Just what?” You yank her hips out and in, make her yelp at the change in pace. “Stop? Keep going? I can’t tell what you’re asking for and neither can Yunjin.” Yunjin herself lets out a breathy sigh - the strap-on’s worked well inside her cunt, matching the strokes as best she can; at this point, you’re just waiting for her to squirt on the floor. “Could’ve sworn you were greedy a few days ago when I fucked you in the back of the car, don’t lie to me.” 

“Maybe.” You slide in - genuinely fucking her. Kazuha tries to let it go casually the way you’re cock’s tearing inside her - you’ll give her the ‘A’ for attempting. That feeling can’t be ignored - she’s close, rising within - it’s in the lines of her face, her body, it’s showing. “Fuck - that’s not the point. I couldn’t be more desperate for your cock unlike Yunjin.” 

She’s not saying it for Yunjin’s sake, but also for her own: smiling through the pleasure despite her body nearly shutting down and breaking on your cock. All that ego, that bullshit given all these years, it’s all gone in an instant. It was a pipe dream to fuck the boldness out of her - you’ll come close, but not close enough. You’ll fuck her truly in the way that she wants - and the glint over her shoulder pierces through your eyes. Do your worst, you imagine her saying. I’d love to see you try. 

So, you’ll give exactly the worst thing to her. You’ll make her cum on your cock. 

You let go of her face, grab her tit before sliding down to her pussy. “Look at you,” you tell her, matching the smirk she gave you on the couch the other day, recalling, “nowhere to go.” 

Kazuha parts her mouth, ready to dart back with a witty response - or tries to - rocked with her high so intense that it’s bubbling in her throat, on her tongue. She’s there, thanks to you; Yunjin’s honoring your request, wincing, sliding that silicone cock inside- 

She’s up next, you’re not forgetting. You take Kazuha - all the way in, past her orgasm, let her shoulders go slack, breath in thin wisps, hand losing grip and slipping from your sweat, and you’re grinding your cock deep in her - all the way down to the base, where the blowback of your balls tapping her clit, prolongs the feeling - a new sensation; fuck, she feels so fucking good- 

“How do we deal this out, you suppose?” You ask Yunjin, breathless, head held high, breaking your gaze and towards your girlfriend. “Should I carry on what I’m doing?” Kazuha whimpers when you’re massaging her ass, slowly driving your cock back in, softening the blow. “Do whatever our little slut wishes?” 

You and Kazuha both glance at Yunjin together, slick dripping down her thighs, small threads plastered on your hips, and Yunjin slides the strap-on out of her like it’s a restraint. Kazuha slides off your cock, leans back to your embrace, legs quivering - you gave her a lot to handle, that’s for sure. But you’re not done yet. Not until Yunjin’s got her chance. 

Yunjin herself is treated to such a sight, cum soaked on the plastic in her hand, but when you sweep her close she’s already falling: like she knows you’ll catch her whenever and doesn’t have to worry about a damn thing. You’re eying her eyes, those plump pretty lips, her long legs rivaling Kazuha’s, her leaking cunt - she’s shifting in your arm, like one look sends sparkles in her eyes. She’s waiting, patiently - lets you do anything to her without saying a single word. 

“Enjoyed the show, love?” You’re scratching the sweet spot behind her head and her neck relaxes. It’s those earthy eyes you can’t get enough of, love drunk and over her head with her switch flipped - hot and crazy in love she’ll want everything. “How does it feel seeing lovely little Zuha finally get humbled?” 

“I’ll literally cut your dick off if you don’t shut your fucking mouth,” retorts Kazuha, twisting her neck so she could face you. No matter how much of a pain in the ass she is while getting fucked, she’ll own that role close to her heart. 

Yunjin flashes a smile, and you smile back. Coming to a consensus. “Not enough for her, sadly.” 

Kazuha takes advantage for once, hurling your body against the hallway now, and making you shuffle back past the open door to the room. Yunjin fails at the mediary with her chin on her shoulder, pushing her weight so that the ratio is two-to-one. Both of their eyes are insane, glittering crystals and with a primal ferocity behind them - holy fuck, is it sexy, moments away from victory. Backing you into a corner where there’s no opening for escape. 

“Make you eat your fucking words out,” Kazuha says, voice unfazed when she just came on your cock a few minutes ago, “Better hope you won’t get the chance again.” 

“Careful Zuha,” Yunjin butts in, hoping to alleviate the tenacious threat. “You wouldn’t want to get on his bad side again.” 

“What she said,” you remark - leaving it at that for now. 

“Okay then,” Kazuha tuts, grabbing your face for a kiss, clawing your hair, soothing it. “I’m tagging Jen Jen in.” 

With that, Yunjin pushes Kazuha off to the foot of the bed and topples over you, claiming her prize. 

There’s a passing of the torch in the form of the strap-on - Kazuha takes it and wiggles on the bed - while you’re wrestling for control with Yunjin, grasping her waist and flipping her over so that she’s under, fingers in familiar spots where you’ve left marks and bruises before - ready to it again. “Guess you’re up,” you mumble - feeling the knuckles of Yunjin’s hand on your face before she fiddles with the cuff of your ear, pinching. You’re surveying the planes of her body, targeting the areas where it’ll hurt. “You could never have enough of my cock as it is.” 

An instant curveball when you slap her inner thigh twice, flip her over and slap her ass, then roll back to her cunt. 

Yunjin shrieks - Kazuha inhales deep at the sound when she pushes the strap-on in her cunt. You smack again, put your mouth to hers and funnel the noise down your neck. This was new to the script, and you’re certain it’ll stay. 

There’s no other pretense to act on, and you bury your cock inside her cunt. 

She is fucking dripping; given the mewls and moans petering out of her mouth, your ears focus on the sweet sound of slick as her pussy takes all of you, stretching and sliding in the ways you made her break, the noises heavenly, a symphony alone as you get back into true pace - you’re fucking her cunt so hard that it’s almost snapping her spine in half, or make her lose the feeling in her legs. Ah, you’re just treating yourself - possibly. Kazuha’s fucking herself right next to you two and has a front row seat of the one in many acts about to unfold- 

Her pussy is incredible - that’s just the jist of it, the meaning already written to existence long before you came along, Yunjin’s just huffing along, the size too grand to bear- 

“Good?” You know for damn sure it’s good. Her neck is a nice place for your hand to rest, siphoning the remaining air trapped in her lungs. The last gasp for more, taken away. “Yeah, you know it’s good. Same kind of sluttiness I expected with Kazuha. What would I ever do without you - getting off with your cunt and fucking you as I please. God, baby- it’s so fucking tight down there, I could never-” 

You’re left speechless when you abruptly pull out, slap your cockhead along her clit and she’s gushing everywhere, spraying the sheets, squirting in mere seconds. Kazuha drops her jaw in shock, ecstatic, amazed- 

“Kazuha’s in her own world, and she’s living in it,” You snap your hips, yank her body, sending another aftershock - your hands will never leave. “It shouldn’t be this easy, babe - the way that you’re just one, insufferable, cocktease-” 

Yunjin crunches her eyes, and her lower half subconsciously rolls with yours. She’s one to have her moment, but the way that she’s just taking it - so fucking well- 

“This strap couldn’t fill her enough,” Kazuha chides. And that’s the daunting realization - it’s one thing to keep things mundane, by the book, but this: the degrading, the power going to your head, the advantages you seized for yourself, you’re speaking listless shit and giving less of a fuck for your own benefit. “Now you got a taste of your own medicine, honey. All that talk about having all of him when he clearly has sights for others. Now he’s got me to deal with if you’re not around; and look at him, he’s really greedy. 

Yunjin’s sobbing, tears seeping at the corners. You’re close - everything in your body expanding and rushing to the peak - but her scared expression makes you think otherwise, spares a second thought. 

“Do you believe that, sweetheart?” You grit, releasing your grip around her throat, leaning for a kiss and it brings her back to life. “Tell us how it feels.” 

Kazuha’s scooting closer, the silicon impaled deep in her cunt, tapping her clit at a fast pace. She’s conservative, yet so smug that it’s rubbing on Yunjin instead, the build up is there, voices rising, crescendoing- 

“It’s so good, so- fuck, so fucking good,” she spits, mouth trembling and the rest of the words are in tongues - and you’re sure that you’ve broke her once again. “I love this cock so much - I can’t even begin to describe how well it fucks me, taking me just to dump your cum, come back for more - please, don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop-” 

On instinct, she taps your thigh. A signal to let you know she has a different play in mind. 

You snap your gaze back to Kazuha and she immediately takes the hint, a wicked grin spread on her lips to sell the implied message. 

From there it’s a simple one-two, a bait and switch. You slide out of Yunjin’s well fucked cunt and swoop Kazuha’s legs, pulling her over to you while Yunjin staggers back on the bed, taking the strap-on tossed to her so she can simmer down the aching heat engulfing her stomach. You don’t even register the quick inhale Kazuha does when you seamlessly slip back inside her waiting cunt and pick up right where you left off with her - and the screams level with the incessant slaps of skin on skin. 

“Back for more, are you?” Kazuha grunts, sucking in her gut from the pull on her shoulders and into your cock. “Such a shameless boy.” 

“Shut your fucking mouth, whore.” You’re bearing no mind to the word sputtered out. The only thing in your head is taking your roommate’s pussy and making it yours. Nothing more, nothing less. “Gonna ruin this cunt now.” 

“Hold still and look pretty,” demands Yunjin, and she’s on Kazuha’s side, strap-drunk as Kazuha’s head tips back and slides her hand down her abs to her cunt, watching you fuck and fuck and fuck into Kazuha - wrecked and full of your cock, like you needed this to relieve the stress out your body, and Yunjin’s face twists to something more evil, twisted, witnessing a prophecy come to fruition- 

“Look at our cute cocksleeve go.” Yunjin’s fingers tap your forearm, nails clawing curves into your skin - the sting going unnoticed as the thrusts keep moving - another sense acquired, you’re sweating, overheating. “I’m sure he came in you already, and guess what? He’s gonna ruin your tight cunt and fill you up to the brim - when we’re done with you, you’re gonna have to be carried around the house-” 

Kazuha cries and cums on your waist - Yunjin sits up, fingers fast to the crease of her legs, surprised and seeing it all unfold. As for you, you’re tensing, gritting teeth together, cumming inside her cunt, the release sought after now tumbling in true bliss- 

“Oh, no. We can’t have you be that loud now.” 

Yunjin waddles over on her knees to Kazuha’s head, angles her head, and pushes the plastic cock between her lips, smothering with her own spit - see the bob form in her throat when she takes it halfway in. 

You’re still going, pulling out and sliding your tip across her folds, soaked in white and convinced that there’s more for you to offer. The strokes are consistent, long enough for another minute or so until you’re spilling a second load in her walls, pumping her full. 

“God, fucking- Jesus. Kazuha-” 

“Mmfrjmph,” she’s got herself full of other things to worry about than your leaking cum in her pussy. 

“Jen, switch.” You give the order and your girlfriend drags her hips away from Kazuha’s face. From the second you pull your cock out, white strips start to drip onto the sheets. Your mind’s barely there, putting every fiber of muscle from the nerves to get you at the headboard of the bed and settle into a comfortable position - and Yunjin flips Kazuha over, hooks her hands to her hips, dragging it towards her crotch, she managed to get the strap-on in time, pointing the length to her cunt, picking up small ribbons at the tip. 

“Think she needs a little clean up before you have your fun,” you suggest, fingers buried deep into the threads of Kazuha’s hair and forming it into a lazy bun, ignoring the little ‘ah’ from her lips and focusing her head on your softening cock. “Unless you’re gonna jump right in and get sloppy.” 

“You’ve made my point beautifully,” Yunjin agrees, lowering her head and raising Kazuha’s hips up so she can get the taste of both, pushing her back down and deepening the arch with a lick of her lips. “You taste good.” 

“Are you saying that to me? Or Zuha?” 

“Whatever answer you like.” 

Kazuha, as always, refuses to pay attention. Rather- her attention is drawn back to your cock, tongue sweeping the underside, your head falling back and hitting the wood behind, feeling her mouth lap up the mess of your cum slicked cock and slide your hips deeper into the mattress. This is heaven for her, for Yunjin too. A truce made once the damage has been done- 

“Don’t go too hard on Zuha, she’s been through a lot.” you tell her, but it’s more of a blessing in disguise when you and Yunjin are on the same page in most cases. A girl like Kazuha on her hands and knees, a collective effort fulfilled. 

Yunjin cackles and there’s no further meaning there, the tone sweet, syrupy - you could get drunk on it every single time her face brightens up. She’s leaning over to kiss you, arms wobbling in support so that she doesn’t fall on top of Kazuha, and it’s happened before. “Aw, well that’s too bad. I was gonna give her that and nothing else,” she tells you, smacking her lips off of you. Her hands rest at the swell of Kazuha’s waist, kneading and slapping lightly as a light tease. “You think I can’t hold my own.” 

You’re seeing a warble in the room somewhere - on Yunjin. The outer line of her stature warps in your vision - hot, messy, maliciously - jerking Kazuha’s hips back and brushes her hips to her ass.” 

“Yunjin, fuck- holy shit-” 

Kazuha gasps, smiling. The babbles are complete gibberish, filthy - Yunjin’s ramming her strap inside her ass, cum being pushed well into Kazuha’s womb, poking a little bump in her stomach, speeding up the motion and clawing wherever she can. Kazuha swallows up your cock, brushing the head at the top of her throat, humming - the vibrations bringing you back to life- 

“She’s built for taking pain,” Yunjin assesses, experimental. She has no regard for her best friend - and you see the whites in Kazuha’s eyes roll back, her lips sealed at the base and understands where she lies between you two. It’s where she’s meant to be, it seems. You could drop witty drawls and creative comebacks; when it comes to fucking her, neither of you expected her to this soaked. “What a slut. Not even a proper dick-down and spanking can’t shut you up.” 

Kazuha’s slurps mesh with the words. “I - mmrfph - fine, I swear. Okay-” 

It’s somewhat comprehending to have her like this, split in two and mouth full of your cock. “Yeah, she’s good. Kazuha- Kazuha, baby.” 

There’s nothing better than this. 

Kazuha getting her hole fucked, sucking you dry. 

She sucks. 

And sucks. 

“If there’s anything that we’ve learned,” Yunjin says mid-thrust, pointing Kazuha’s leg up to the ceiling, deepening the angle, “We both can fuck her brains to mush if we wanted to. Any time in the day, just pull her aside and tell her what to do. What do ya think?” 

You’re nodding, stuttering. Kazuha’s mouth has you speechless. “I have no objections,” you barely say, thighs tensing and shaking. “Yunjin, I’m gonna cum in her mouth.” 

“Then go ahead,” Yunjin tells you, and you do. Kazuha cheeks puff up at the eruption, streams of white leaking at the corners, satisfied. 

Yunjin gives one more good thrust for measure, slides the strap-on out of her fucked cunt, exhaustion collapsing her body, pleased and content with her end of the bargain - the strap-on gets tossed off the bed and onto the floor, made well with its use and disregarded. 

She rolls over to your side soon after, glancing. Kazuha’s face clearly spent and drifting off to sleep. For the time being. 

–

“We might’ve killed her,” you tell Yunjin peepingyour head past the door frame to see Kazuha’s unmoving body on the bed, “Is it worth checking if she’s breathing?” 

There’s the last remnants of what unfolded hours ago, the quick debrief - that kind of thing. You’ve got your head full of mixed emotions; each one of them occurring in passing seconds: happiness, satisfaction, remorse - unsure and nervous, kind of, it’s been a long night anyway. 

(She’ll wake up in the morning and feel sore. But if her first words of the day are related to bearing you, that’s a clear sign she’s back to normal.) 

“Kazuha’s a good catch,” Yunjin says. “If anything, she’ll complain about her thighs being tight.” 

“In relation to her pilates?” You flip the cup over and let the water flow into the drain. Yunjin’s patting your face with a damp towel. “Or the sex?” 

“Both,” and she smiles. You purse your lips in agreement. “Gotta say, I didn’t expect you to match her energy well.” 

“How could I not? C’mon, the girl was asking for it.” You laugh dryly. 

“Point taken,” Yunjin concedes and opens her limbs to let you in the middle, wrap them around and embrace you fully. Her borrowed shirt crumpling in, folding and forming creases alike. “You’re too good at this.” 

You give her a fond grin. “Wanna tell me that again?” 

“No.”

“No?” 

To suffice, she slots her lips to yours, leans back and taps the bathroom mirror. “Okay, it’s past our bedtime already.” 

You find yourself slipping through the chestnut pools and the titian waves - an endless valley to get lost in, the light radiating perfectly to where it highlights and complements the shades well. You’ve said a lot of things to her, more than you can probably count. 

“Love us,” you’re proclaiming, preaching to the open air. Her dragged grin pulls you deeper, and you spot the scrunch at the bridge of her brows: she couldn’t agree more. Then it reverts back to normal: “lose the shirt, we’ll share the body heat under the sheets.” 

–

The first day with drastic changes beckoning are scary.

This is nothing new.

Starting from scratch, conceptually, is always a new brush of inspiration, no matter what the event is. Luckily, it’s reassuring that you’re not facing these new horizons alone. With a guy like you, that has wonderful people in your corner - willing to support any endeavor you indulge in, it’s empowering. You’re convinced that the clouds part in the sky for the sun to fill the endless canvas of blue and you feel that whatever’s manifested in your mind will eventually come true. 

You have the same old pattern with Yunjin: take her out somewhere nice every now and then, waste your time doing nothing on some days, hold her heels or bag without her asking, let her treat you well whenever she feels like it. You share the usual banter, fuck her if things get boring, give her a lot of things to deal with that she’ll brush off later. 

With Kazuha, it’s a dice roll: 

She still spits out shit to you with no reason, and you return the favor and fuck her till she begs for more, gets into petty arguments until she comes walking back without saying a word, unable to take compliments, rambles endless fantasies waiting to be fulfilled more than just once. And you accept that she won’t let you off easily. 

When the two of them are together, sitting across from you or on their knees; backs on the bed or one eating out the other's cunt, it’s a place of a guaranteed connection; one that’s massively fucked up and with a million ways to go about with the pair. You and Yunjin know this - and between the three of you, it remains unsaid. 

“Got everything?” Yunjin asks, handing your trusted tumbler and ruffling up your hair, dusting off your windbreaker like a mom seeing off their child for school. “Expecting a slow day, aren’t you?” 

“You know me,” you drawl, grinning. “I’d much rather waste my time here and get paid for it.” 

The back of your head nicks forward as a response from behind, looking past your shoulder to see Kazuha tilt her head in view, getting a closer look of your appearance and drawing up her own assessment. “Until one of us get another job, it seems like you’re the main breadwinner of the household.” 

“Zuha, him and I were expecting your half of the rent for this month,” says Yunjin, hand to her hip and pouting, “Wanna tell us where the fuck it is?” 

Kazuha sashays herself next to Yunjin, inciting a staredown that ends after two seconds, shaking her head and dodging the question entirely. “Don’t worry about it. But I have the money, I swear.” 

“And what if you don’t have it when he comes back?” Yunjin asks Kazuha, rolling her eyes before shifting her gaze back to normal, “Then what?” 

You’re making your way out as the two continue with the quick argument, disregarding their attention. “If it’s all the same to you, I’ll be heading out now.” 

“Can I fuck her again while you’re gone?’ Yunjin then asks, shouldering her weight to Kazuha. “At least until-” 

You sigh. 

“I’d like to ask the same question, but do it on Yunjin,” Kazuha replies. 

(It’s a lot on your plate with Yunjin. Sure. Kazuha’s added herself to the mix - and it’s a tad bit more complicated. Maybe worse. Fuck all you know: you like them both.) 

“I’ll handle you two later,” you’re telling the pair, and they know you mean every word - a promise. “Feel free to get started.” After, you see yourself out the door. 

[lustspren]

D.A | HERicane

Male reader x Isa, Shuhua, Rei

Special guest(s): Jiheon, Yoon, Seeun

word count: 27.1k words

🔙 Previous update | 📄 HERicane | 🔜 Next update.

━•✦•━•✦•━

━•✦•━•✦•━

“Bro, you’d think with a fucking 24-core i9 and 32GB of ram this crap would render fast, but no!” you said exasperatedly, staring at your computer’s main screen. You were trying to render a highlight video from your past stream playing Subnautica to upload to your YouTube channel.

“Uhm, did you try changing the codec?” asked Genbu, one of your mods and main helper for basically everything behind the scenes. You were talking to him on your Discord channel, and you had Nine Inch Nails’ Heresy playing at low volume in the background. “The other option is to render it at 2K instead of 4K.”

“I refuse,” you replied. “I’ve been trying all afternoon; I’m not picking up the cable now.”

Your studio was relatively quiet, so you could hear the door open behind you.

"Give me a second mate," you said, muting yourself to take off your headphones and hang them around your neck. Turning around, you saw Lee Chaeyoung—now black-haired—walking towards you, dressed in one of your hoodies and baggy sweatpants. "What's wrong, sweetie?"

Isa was going to stay with you for a couple of days, since she had free space in her schedule. She had arrived that day in the morning, and wanted to stay for about three more days. You were happy about it, because since you met her two months ago, she, Sully and you had spent enough time together to become very good 'friends'.

The relationship between her and you was quite different from hers with Sully. With Sully she was a sweetheart, she treated her as you could treat her: like a fragile princess who deserves nothing but care, love and tenderness. With you she was also a sugar nougat, but she also let out her saucier and bolder side more often; except when you were in bed, then she was always a monster.

"Guess what!" she said with a grin, happily skipping up to stand behind you. "Minnie-sunbaenim invited me to a party!"

"Oh, really?" you raised your eyebrows, and turned your chair to face her. "That's great, where?"

"It says Yongin-si here," Isa replied, sitting on the left side of your lap as she looked at her phone. "I don't remember where that is."

"Far," you said, wrapping your left arm around her body. "It's like an hour drive. Do you want me to take you there?"

"Ah, I don't just need you to take me," she lowered the phone and looked at you with a smile. "You'll go with me!"

You stared at her in silence, blinking a few more times than usual.

"They invited you, not me."

"But it says here that I can bring a companion! Chararan!" She showed you the invitation on her phone, and she wasn't lying. "And you'll be mine."

"I mean, okay," you shrugged. "But are you sure? What kind of people will be there?"

"Only idols from what I understand, and there will be private security in the neighborhood."

"Damn, they spared no expense."

"I got your yes then?" Isa leaned closer to you and made eyes at you, making her eyelashes flutter.

"Yeah, why not. What's the dress code?"

"Elegant, or just black. We'll look amazing!" She grinned from ear to ear, giving you the smile as always.

“I always look amazing,” you winked at her and patted her thigh with your right hand. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m busy, sweetheart.”

“Are we still making dinner together?” Isa asked, standing up.

“I promised I would,” you nodded, and blew her a peck.

“Alright!” she smiled, and blew you a peck back. “I’ll be in the living room.”

“Got it!”

When Isa left your studio you turned around, unmuted yourself, and put your headphones back on, already thinking about what you were going to wear tomorrow and looking forward to what was going to happen. Being around idols was already a habit for you since you accompanied Sully to music shows often, but this was going to be different. At a party those idols wouldn't be idols, they would be normal people like you, and therefore they wouldn't behave like they might in front of their managers or the public staff. How could you miss that?

"Ezio?" Genbu said.

"Hm?"

"You didn't mute yourself, dumbass," he said. "Be thankful I don't know Korean, but now I know you have a girlfriend. What 's her name?"

You slapped your forehead. What a fucking retard.

"First of all she's not my girlfriend," you sighed. "And second I can't tell you that."

"Why not? Is she famous?"

"She's famous here."

"Alright, fair enough. Just be careful that that doesn't happen to you in the middle of a stream, dumbass."

"You don't have to say it twice," you sighed after getting over the shock.

THE NEXT DAY

“Do you guys have any idea how many people are going?” you asked, looking at the highway. You were already in Seongnam, halfway to Yongin and about 25 minutes away.

“Not a clue,” Isa replied in the passenger seat. She was using the overhead mirror to touch up her makeup. “I know Ryujinie and Yeji unnie are going.”

“Well, familiar faces at least,” you said.

“You know them?” Isa asked.

“Just formal greetings and a few exchanges of words thanks to Sully.”

“I know there are IVE girls going, I don’t know who, but that’s what Jiwoonie told me,” Yoon said in the backseat, between you and Isa’s seat, Seeun on her right side, looking out the window. They had gone to your apartment to get ready and leave with you two. The rest of the girls had been invited as well, but all three were occupied.

"I don't talk to anyone actively so I have no idea either," Seeun said. "I'm fine with you three tho, so don't leave me alone."

"Any expectations?" The highway was clear at that time of night, so you took the liberty of turning to look at Isa. She looked stunning in the dress she'd picked out, and the choker she wore around her neck was a perfect addition.

Isa gave you a mischievous sidelong glance and giggled.

"I have a couple, but if I say them then they won't come true," she said, touching up her lipstick.

"And what about you two back there?" you asked, and glanced at them in the rearview mirror. "Not dying?"

"That's optional," Seeun replied.

"Hey!" Yoon tapped her leg, making Seeun laugh. "What are you saying?"

"I'm just kidding!" Seeun said. "No, I don't have any expectations. I want to be surprised."

"That's better!"

"What about you, oppa?" Isa asked you, placing a hand on your thigh. "You look like quite the casanova today. You might flutter a few hearts."

"I just want to see people make fools of themselves, it's always fun," you said, taking a detour on the highway and then a curve to the right. "Anything beyond that is welcome."

"Anything? That word is dangerous; it implies a lot of things."

"Oh yeah? Like what?"

"I don't know. A lot of girls might see you as a good snack. I would."

"I don't think you're particularly a good role model."

"And I'm not. But I have excellent taste, just so you know."

"Hey, do you want us to get off and take a cab or what?" Yoon asked. "We're right here."

"We should kiss and make them uncomfortable," Seeun said.

"I'd pay to see that," you said. "It's not a threat."

"Aniyo!" Yoon refused. "I don't have enough alcohol on me yet."

"Alcohol?" Seeun chuckled. "You don't need alcohol to do that."

"Unnie!!" Yoon shrieked. "Shut up!"

"I think we should be the ones getting off," you said to Isa. "Those two are going through marital problems."

"Nah, at the party they'll learn to value each other," she replied. "You'll see."

Yoon and Seeun spent the entire remaining drive arguing and teasing each other like a married couple. You and Isa had to resort to the classic of playing music louder than them, and you opted for a little mix of songs of your choosing and hers.

When you arrived in Yongin-si you realized why they had chosen to have the party in that city. The location took you to a neighborhood under construction in the hills, with rather few finished houses and a residential presence still too low for there to be complaints about the various security outposts you saw as you drove uphill and around corners.

It was practically impossible to go wrong with the house, because the only one with more than one car parked outside and security in the doorway was the one right on your right as you pulled up on the opposite sidewalk, halfway uphill. The house was beautiful: two stories, built of concrete with wooden details and surrounded by a sturdy wall that guaranteed your privacy.

"Oh yeah, this is gonna be fun," you said, turning off the car and looking at a few people already filing in. You recognized only a few: Ryujin, Yeji, EXO's Kai and Wendy. You couldn't see the rest of them's faces. "All the big shots are here."

"Wah, I can't believe I'm more nervous than you," Yoon said, waiting for Seeun to open her door even though she could just move to the left and use the other one. "And I've been around them more than you."

"It's about having self-confidence," you said as you all got out, to look at her over the roof of the car. "You look stunning. We all do, actually."

And you weren't just saying that for no reason. Yoon was wearing a short dress similar to Isa's, with a loose skirt and lace straps, with the particularity of the high black stockings that she wore up to above her knees. Seeun—who had taken it quite seriously—on the other hand, shone with the set of jewels hanging from her neck and shoulders that covered her entire collarbone, with her short dress fitted at the level of her abdomen by another jeweled belt and semi-transparent gloves with small shiny stones. And you, for your part, had opted for black trousers, Prada brushed leather derby shoes, a tucked turtleneck sweater and a Burberry wool and cowhide jacket, with cotton gloves as accessories and a silver cross necklace.

"That doesn't reassure me!" Yoon replied, already crossing the street with slow steps with Seeun. "I still can't believe that a girl I admire so much invited me to her party."

"Well, get over it because I don't want you to be starstruck all night," Isa said, linking arms with you as you all crossed the street to the doorway. "You're one of the best vocalists of our generation! Act like it!"

"Ahhh!" Yoon squealed, overwhelmed, until Seeun put her hand over her mouth as she had drawn more than one glance at her.

Looking around, you noticed more and more familiar faces, with special attention paid to all the girls from Fromis who had attended except Saerom. They all looked gorgeous, but the one who caught your attention was Jiheon, who showed off those long, perfect legs better than everyone else there in that short dress. You and she made discreet eye contact for a few seconds, until she looked away and you looked forward again.

"Stop yelling!" Seeun scolded her as you all walked towards the doorway. "You're embarrassing me."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Yoon lowered her head, staying close to Seeun and almost hiding behind her. "I'm just really nervous."

"First and last name?" one of the security guards asked you under the gate that led into the house.

"Lee Chaeyoung and Ezio Leone," Isa said beside you. The security guard checked in a moment and stepped aside. "Thank you!"

As you passed, you turned right, and went through the main entrance to get straight to the living room. The house itself wasn't too big, since with barely twenty people the living room could already be crowded, but the lack of space down there was made up for by how huge the outside yard was, so there wasn’t gonna be any space problems. At least at that moment, because more and more people were arriving.

"Chaeyoungie!" you heard someone call from somewhere. Seconds later, Ryujin stepped out from between two people, smiling widely at Isa. “Hi!”

“Unnie!” Isa said, letting go of your arm to go hug her. Yoon and Seeun came up behind you. “It’s good to see you!”

“Same here,” Ryujin looked over her shoulder at Yoon and Seeun. “Hi, girls!”

“Hi!” the two greeted.

Ryujin stepped away from Isa and looked at you with a raised eyebrow.

“And you? New STAYC member or what?” she asked you.

“Nah, I auditioned but they rejected me,” you replied. The girls laughed.

“Aw, too bad Sullyoonie isn’t here,” Ryujin pouted. “The tour date was unfortunate.”

“Yeah I wish she was here too,” you sighed. “But hey, I’ll send her your regards.”

“You better, although I’ll probably see her in the JYP building first than you,” Ryujin gave you one last up and down look before looking at Isa. “Why don’t we go say hello to the hostess? She’s over there.”

“Oh gosh,” you heard Yoon say from behind. She was a huge G-IDLE fan, you understood why she was getting nervous. “Ah ottoke! Can I be rude and not say hello to her?”

“No way!” Seeun scolded her, as you all walked outside. “Sim Jayun, start calming down!”

Ryujin led you outside. Minnie stood in the center of the yard, surrounded by a small circle of people who came up to greet her and then dispersed into small groups that spread out all over the place. Soyeon orbited around her, more mobile and active than her groupmate as she performed the same function. You approached them together, with Ryujin and Isa in the lead.

“Mincha!” Ryujin called, catching Minnie’s attention. “Guess who’s here!”

“Oh finally!” Minnie beamed from ear to ear, taking quick steps to hug Isa. “How are you, sweetie?”

“Wonderful, unnie!” Isa replied, hugging back. “Wah, the three of us haven’t gotten together in a while. Only Chaeyonie is missing.”

“I know, right?” Minnie pouted. “It would’ve been nice if all the Beast girls were together again.”

“Well, three of us is better than none,” Ryujin said, then pointed a thumb at Yoon. “Oh, by the way, Yoon-ssi is a big fan of yours.”

Yoon didn't know which rock to duck under or which bush to hide in. You had to put a hand on her waist and give her a little push forward to get her to talk to Minnie.

"U-um... um," Yoon stuttered, staring at Minnie as if she wasn't real. "Y-yeah! Thank you for inviting me, unnie! Well, us!" she gave her several small bows.

"Ani ani," Minnie shook her head, and took Yoon's hands, caressing the backs like a proud mother. "It's my pleasure. I admire you all so much."

"Oh," Yoon was perplexed for a moment. "Thank you, thank you so much unnie!" more bows, making you all giggle.

Minnie also greeted Seeun, who took it a bit more calmly and was sweeter to her, and then looked at you.

"And you?" she asked. "I don't want to sound rude, but you don't look like you're from around here, dear."

"Because I'm not," you said with a giggle, and held out a hand to shake. "I'm Ezio, it's a pleasure."

"Ezio?" Minnie raised an eyebrow, switching to English. "Italian?"

"A bit obvious, I guess," you shrugged, answering her in English as well.

"A bit far from home, huh?" Minnie said, finally shaking your hand. "Vacation?"

"Oh, no," you shook your head. "I've been living here for a year and a half."

"Oh wow, and how's it been?"

"Pretty much great, no complaints so far."

"I think I can guess why," Minnie smiled, shifting her gaze to Isa. "Cute Italian boyfriend huh? You have good taste," she switched back to Korean.

"Well, he's not..." Isa giggled. "He's not exactly..."

"He's not your boyfriend?"

"I mean, kind of but..."

You looked at Isa, narrowed you eyes and shook your head, signaling her not to beat herself up trying to explain.

"Ah well, yes, he is," Isa said, giving up.

Minnie took a moment to look at the two of you, only to chuckle at the end. You couldn't be sure if she knew, but she definitely knew.

"No, I get it now, don't worry," she said, and gave you all a look. "Anyway, make yourselves at home, darlings. Drink, eat, and enjoy whatever you want."

You and the girls said goodbye to Minnie, and walked back with Ryujin inside the house. Inside you went to the kitchen, looking to pour yourselves your first drinks of the night. There were bottles of everything on the counters and in the cupboards, from the cheapest sojus to wines that cost upwards of 4 figures, and you opted for a drink of white rum, soda and lime juice.

Ryujin stayed chatting with you for a little while on the deck area where the dining room was, until Yeji came over and took her away to hang out with Karina, Winter and Ning. You stayed there, seeing how the yard was as populated as the house inside. It wasn't the first time you saw many of these people, but it was still fun to see them behave in a sterile environment, without annoying managers telling them what to do or not. People without masks to hide behind, basically. Lovely.

A half hour later things were still calm, with nothing to be noticed above the thumping music and the usual chatter everywhere.

Until the devil appeared in the form of a small woman, with a tray of vodka shots that she was handing out around the yard to warm people up and cause laughter. You thought that being inside would get you off the hook, but her next destination happened to be right where you were.

"Hey! You thought I'd forget about you all?" Yeh Shuhua asked, entering the dining room through the front entrance, to leave the tray of shots on the table around which you were sitting. "No way! Drink up!" she said with a mischievous little smile, and then blew a kiss to Isa with her hand. "Hello unnie! Hello girls!"

"Wasn't there a healthier way to come up here and say hello?" Isa giggled, grabbing a shot to drink. You and Seeun did the same without a word, but Yoon made a hilarious face of disgust that made you both laugh.

"Aniyo! The faster people get drunk, the faster I can make fun of them," Shuhua said, and in a very smooth manner she leaned her hand on the back of your chair to look at you. "Oh, hello handsome."

You, who were drinking from your glass, looked up seconds later, not realizing she was talking to you. She left you mesmerized for a few seconds by how hot she looked, with that long-sleeved top with bare shoulders and bell-shaped sleeves, and those flared pants that highlighted her meaty thighs.

"Hello," you said, giving her a rather intentional look up and down. "How are you doing?"

"Not so good a moment ago," Shuhua said. Her gaze swept over you as yours did over hers. "But much better now."

"I see," you nodded slowly, and pointed to the tray of drinks. "You haven't had a shot yet, what are you waiting for?"

Shuhua chuckled with a smile, and leaned against the table to grab a shot so you could see how hot her arched back looked. She downed the shot like vodka was water, and set the empty glass in front of you with a loud tap, her defiant eyes on you.

"Done, sweetie," she said, one hand on her hip. "I'm Shuhua, by the way. But my name is whatever you want it to be."

You gave her a sly smile. Well, that was going to be an interesting night.

"I'm Ezio, cutie," you extended your hand, and Shuhua shook it. "Do you have anywhere else to be?"

"You want me to?" she raised an eyebrow.

"Nope, I think you'll be just fine here," you said, and offered her the empty chair right next to you.

“Then it’s done,” Shuhua gave you one last glance before sitting down on the chair you offered her and looking at the girls, who were chattering amongst themselves. “Hey! Which of the three of you did he come with?”

“Oh, with me,” Isa said, turning to look at her. “Why?”

Shuhua gently bit her bottom lip, smiled, and took your glass from you to drink from it. She kept it for a moment.

“Nothing in particular,” she replied. “Curiosity.”

“And why do you look like you’re up to something?” Isa asked, and sipped on her drink, a mix of vodka, orange juice, and cranberry juice.

“I always look that way!” Shuhua took another sip of your drink. You just stared at her to see how far she would go without returning it. “I’m not up to anything!”

“Allow me not to believe you.”

“I really don’t!” Shuhua protested, still holding your damn drink in her hand. “Hey, why don’t we go to the living room and dance a little? You don’t intend to sit here the whole party do you?”

Yoon stood up abruptly, giving Seeun a small scare.

“Wah! I was waiting for someone to say that!” she said. “This drink already got me going.”

“You haven’t even finished it,” Seeun said, puzzled. “And it’s only the first one.”

“Mind your own business!” Yoon grabbed her hands and forced her to stand up. “Come on, let’s go.”

Seeun took her drink and let Yoon lead her into the living room. Shuhua was flabbergasted.

“Do those two like each other or what?” she asked.

“Since we were trainees,” Isa replied with a giggle, also standing up. "But they're both too dumb to notice."

"How could they not notice?" Shuhua stood up, and you being the last one were forced to do so. "I don't think it's that complicated."

"No, they know they like each other, but they don't realize it's mutual."

"I see..." Shuhua nodded. "Well, we'll see about that. Let's go!"

Shuhua took Isa by the hand��still not handing you your damn drink—and led the way to the living room. There the mood had already changed a bit: people were already starting to dance, in pairs or in groups, making the house look like the dance floor of a regular club. Chris Brown's Look At Me Now was blasting from the speakers, instantly making you move your head.

You found Yoon and Seeun towards the back, near the glass wall. They weren't alone, it seemed they had met up with their friends from IVE, Yujin, Gaeul and Rei. The five of them formed a small circle as they talked and danced. As you approached, Isa took the lead, leaving you and Shuhua behind to go hug the IVE girls.

Shuhua then let you go in front so she could hug you from behind with her left arm and bring your glass to your mouth for you to drink.

"You know I'm dangerous when I set my sights on someone, right?" she whispered in your ear as you drank from the same rim of the glass she had left her lipstick mark on.

"No, I really had no idea," you shook your head, finally taking the glass from her. You looked at her over your shoulder. "How was my drink?"

"Don't play dumb, sweetie. You took my clothes off with your eyes just now."

You noticed Isa was watching you two discreetly, but still didn't do anything to help you. She knew it wasn't good for her.

"I wasn't the only one," you said. "In fact, I still feel the burn your gaze left on my bulge."

"Yeah well, and depending on how you behave tonight you might feel something else there."

Shuhua patted your chest a couple of times and walked past you to go to the girls. You just stared at her as she walked, thinking of a thousand and one ways you could eat that...

"Hey, Ezio!" Isa called out to you. Shuhua knew you were checking her out and laughed. "What are you waiting for? Come here!"

With slightly warm cheeks you went to the girls, and briefly introduced yourself to each of the IVE girls. They were very friendly to you, especially Yujin, who you didn't expect to be so down to earth. She was the one you got along with the most, and was along with Yoon an endless source of laughter.

Gaeul on the other hand was more reserved. She would contribute to the conversation every now and then, but she wasn't nearly as outgoing as Yujin.

And Rei, lastly, spent most of her time quiet, just giggling and talking when someone spoke to her. Very introverted. However, you had the feeling that for some reason it was on purpose, and maybe that had to do with the little glances she gave you every now and then, as if your presence made her self-conscious. You didn't quite know why, but you couldn't ask her out of the blue either.

"Hey, I'll go refill my drink," you announced, raising your glass. "Anybody else need it?"

Almost everyone raised their glass, giving you a problem since you couldn't hold 8 glasses by yourself.

"I'll help you," Rei said, grabbing half of the glasses. And you were sure those were the first words she'd said since you two had introduced yourself.

"Oh, thanks," you smiled with a nod, grabbing the rest of the glasses.

You stepped aside to let Rei go ahead and then followed her. The kitchen held more people than it had when you were there, so you had to push your way through the crowd to get to where the bottles were.

"Do you remember what everyone was drinking?" you asked Rei, who was standing next to you setting the glasses down on the counter to fill them with ice.

"I think so," she nodded without looking at you. She grabbed a bottle of vodka to pour into three of the glasses.

You also grabbed a bottle of vodka but a different brand, aside from white rum and some juices.

"Hey, I don't want to be intrusive," you said, filling the glasses. "But are you okay?"

Rei stayed silent. Glancing at her out of the corner of your eye, you noticed she was nervous, giving you quick glances as if she wanted to tell you something she couldn't get out of her throat.

"If I tell you, won't you think I'm weird?" she asked, as you poured juice into Isa's glass.

"Uh... no?"

"It's just that... I think you're really cute," Rei said. "And I wanted to ask you to dance with me."

You frowned and looked at her.

"What's so weird about that?"

The question took her by surprise. She didn't seem prepared for you to tell her that. She thought for a moment, and finally looked at you.

"You really don't think I'm weird?"

"You just said you think I'm cute, and that's fine. I think you're cute too. There's nothing weird about that."

"You think I'm cute?"

You chuckled and turned around to lean your lower back against the counter.

"Did you look in a mirror today or something?"

"Yeah, but you barely know me," Rei replied, crossing her arms beneath her prominent breasts.

"So what? You barely know me too."

"And that's why I thought you'd think I'm weird," Rei replied.

You shrugged and twisted your torso to pick up your drink with your left hand.

"But I didn't," you took a sip.

Rei sighed.

"I should have guessed. You're not Korean."

"What does that have to do with it?"

"Well, Koreans look at you weird about everything!" Rei whined. “Always so formal and proper.”

“Funny you say that being Japanese.”

“Ugh, don’t even remind me,” Rei rolled her eyes. “Damn Japanese men are worse. Ugly on top of that.”

You laughed, looking away as you drank.

“You consider yourself a cut above the rest then?”

“Nah, I’m too Japanese for a lot of things,” she stood close in front of you and slipped her hands under your arms, to pick up four of the glasses, two in each hand. “But not for flirting. So thanks for confirming that I don’t seem weird to you.”

Rei was tall, taller than you expected before meeting her, and from that distance her full lips looked way too tempting. Her sleepy eyes and sexy gaze didn’t help much either. And to make it worse for you, she purposely pressed her breasts against your chest and then pulled away with a giggle. Her smile was beautiful indeed, and she looked adorable, almost like two people in one.

"Come on, you owe me a dance and those girls must be dying of thirst," she said, and turned around.

Fucking-hell. You looked that good that night? You knew you had immaculate taste in fashion and were handsome enough, but now you had completely outdone yourself.

Or maybe it was because the light was dim and they couldn't see you well? It was a possibility.

Either way, you grabbed the rest of the full glasses and followed Rei. Back with the girls, you handed each of them their glasses—hoping you hadn't confused them—and you talked for a little while until Rei pulled you by the sleeve of your jacket to the side, away from the circle. Kanye West's Gold Digger was just starting to play.

"Hey! You didn't want to dance with me!" Gaeul protested to your right, indignant. Yujin just laughed, but Rei ignored her.

Rei stood close to you, drink in hand, and put a hand on your shoulder to start moving to the music. You followed along. She was smiling, happy to finally be dancing and letting the warmth of the alcohol settle on her body. Her body looked mouth watering, in that short black dress with long sleeves that highlighted her wide hips and attractive breasts. You wanted to press her closer to you, but you were a gentleman; you were going to let her decide that.

Not a word came out of either of your mouths. It was enough with how much fun you were having through every second of the song. Rei was amazing at keeping the beat, and you found it easy to follow along. All of that combined led to a great moment that you were sure you would remember the next day.

It was also worth noting that it was a fun song, devoid of sexual content and aimed more at having a good time than anything else, because when SZA's Low rumbled the bass out of the speakers, Rei transformed into a demon.

She turned around and pressed herself against you, her ass right against your bulge as she pulled out the most mind-melting and tantalizing moves she could. Part of you wanted to throw chivalry aside and wrap an arm around her body, and you wanted it badly. Of course you resisted not being a jerk, but Rei was making you sweat.

"You think it's funny to tease me like this, Rei-chan?" you asked.

Rei laughed and looked over her shoulder at you, a mischievous smile on her face. Merely on purpose, she moved slower and harder against your bulge. Yeah, she did find it very funny. The boner she had given you, on the other hand, wasn't so much.

When the song ended, she turned around and did a couple of happy little jumps.

"Thanks for dancing with me, oppa!" Rei said through a cute smile that you genuinely didn't know where it came from. Maybe she was bipolar?

"You're evil."

"I thought I was cute," she said with a giggle. "You should make up your mind."

Rei took your hand and led you back to the girls. Thank god your clothes were all black and the lights were dull, because otherwise getting there with a hard bulge would have been pretty embarrassing.

“Oh lord, are you okay?” Yujin asked with a chuckle, wiping the sweat off your temple.

“Yeah, fucking awesome,” you sighed with raised eyebrows, and took a long sip from your glass.

Time passed and your group chemistry continued to grow. Isa wasn’t paying too much attention to you, but that wasn’t a bother. On the contrary, you were happy that she was having fun with her group mates, Shuhua, and the new friends she had just made.

Every now and then you looked away from the group to scan the party. Things were already a bit more lively, and just over an hour had barely passed. The highlights were a few unexpected couples kissing here and there, and several guys clowning around in the yard with cigarettes and drinks in hand.

But then you saw her.

And for god's sake, she looked even more gorgeous in person.

Hanni Pham looked lost in the crowd, as if she was looking for someone. She was short in stature, but she still managed to stand out from everyone else because of the touch of white she wore in her outfit: a short-sleeved, puffy-shouldered shirt, with lace embroidery and a bow on the neck, matching the black one she wore in her hair bun. The main attraction of the outfit was of course that short black dress, with three circular openings on her chest.

You knew her, obviously, and you loved her music. Ditto and OMG were on your daily playlist, and she was your favorite member. You didn't have a crush on her tho. Until now.

"Girls, excuse me for a moment?" you said. "I have to…"

You didn't finish the sentence. Without thinking twice you went with her, with confident steps. Nothing could stop you at that moment. Nothing.

When you got close to her you kept a distance of at least five feet. You cleared your throat to get her attention.

"Oh hello," Hanni greeted with a small bow when she turned to you, her lips curved into a cute smile that sent butterflies into your stomach.

"Hey," you bowed back, with the same smile. "Sorry to bother, really, but I saw you standing here alone looking lost and I couldn't help but… you know."

"Well, I'm not exactly lost," Hanni said, looking around before looking at you. "I'm looking for someone missing."

"Oh, you came with someone else?" You unconsciously put a hand in your pocket, which you did when you were nervous.

"Yeah, with Minji-unnie," she nodded. "But I haven't found her for a while."

"Well, I haven't seen her either," you looked around, perhaps hoping that with your superior height you could spot her. But between everyone being dressed in one color and the lighting not helping, it was impossible. "In fact, I didn't even know any of you were coming."

"Ugh, I hate it when she does this to me," Hanni groaned, and when she looked back at you she paused. She narrowed her eyes, studying your face. "Wait… do I know you?" she asked in English.

You frowned, looking to the side and then back at her.

"Uh… do you?" You asked in English as well.

"Yeah!" Hanni pointed at you. "You're Ezio!"

Nothing, absolutely nothing, could have prepared you for that moment when she said your name. You didn't even know how to react. You blinked several times, dumbfounded, and ended up letting out a stupid giggle.

"Y-Yeah, that's me," you nodded. "Do you really know me?"

You were aware that your growth as a streamer was skyrocketing and that you were becoming more famous with each passing day. But on the verge of being known by her? Hanni Pham?

"Yeah!" Hanni smiled from ear to ear, making you go liquid. "I see your clips all the time on Twitter."

And suddenly you were embarrassed.

"Oh god, please tell me you didn't see me screaming like a bitch while playing Sons of the Forest."

Hanni burst out laughing, surely remembering the damn clip. You chuckled softly, cheeks flushing.

“Especially that one,” she managed to say between giggles.

“Fuck,” you sighed. “It certainly wasn’t the first impression I wanted to make on you.”

“Hey, what are you talking about?” Hanni cocked her head. “My first impression of you was that you were nice to me and cared about me when you shouldn’t have.”

“Well, I…”

“A lot of guys less famous than you act like jerks for a lot less,” Hanni nodded outside, perhaps indicating the many boys your age still clowning around the yard. “And they’re less cute, and dress worse.”

“Well… I was just going to say that I love your outfit,” you managed to say through your sudden shyness. “The shirt is an excellent choice.”

“Thank you!” Hanni smiled again, tilting her head. “I must say that jacket is beautiful. Burberry?”

You grinned from ear to ear and nodded.

"Yeah, burberry."

"Ha, I knew my eye wouldn't fail me."

"You… wanna come with us?" You jerked your thumb behind you towards the girls. "We're over there."

Hanni looked at where you were pointing and let out a sigh.

"Considering Minji's probably seeing that ENHYPEN ashole, well…" Hanni shrugged. "Yeah, okay."

"Cool! Do you want me to get you a drink?"

"Yeah but we're going together," Hanni said, stepping aside. "I don't want to stay here alone and I don't want to go with them alone either."

"Why? I'm sure you know them all."

"I do, but I don't want to just butt in," Hanni nodded towards the kitchen. "Come on, Mr. Pepperoni."

Mr. Pepperoni was the nickname your chat often called you by, and the clip from the first time you read it had also gone viral. That's how much she'd seen of you? My god. You felt naked, embarrassed, vulnerable, and like a clown.

"You know something funny?" you asked with a sigh, following her. "We don't even call pepperoni pepperoni in Italy."

Hanni just laughed even harder, hitting every right spot on your eardrums and making you smile even more.

The visit to the kitchen was brief. Hanni helped herself to the same drink as you, with a variation of Pepsi instead of lime juice. When you returned to the girls they greeted Hanni with a warm welcome. You didn't think they'd get along that well, but it was clear that the outsider—in every possible sense—there was you, since they'd seen each other countless times at awards shows and music shows.

Shuhua stood beside you, grabbed your waist and leaned close to your ear.

"You're collecting them like Pokemon, huh?" she said. "At this rate we can make tonight a lot of fun."

You leaned close to her ear as well.

"I'm not collecting anything," you replied. "And if I was, you were the first to fall."

Shuhua reached up and gently grabbed the back of your neck.

"Don't get things mixed up, sweetie," she said. "I had my eye on you first. If it were up to you, you wouldn't have gotten your ass out of that chair."

"Are you calling me slow?"

"Kinda. If you weren't, you would have taken me upstairs already."

You put your right hand on her waist. Her soft flesh and smooth skin felt amazing under your fingers.

"We're on time. The night is young."

"I'm afraid not. Now you'll have to wait."

You frowned.

"Wait for what?"

"For the night to end," Shuhua pressed her fingers into the back of your neck. "And then, you take me to your place and fuck me until I cry."

You didn't even know what to say. The reflex action was, once again, to drink from your glass and pretend you didn't hear anything. Shuhua laughed at this, and walked away from you to go back to Isa's side.

"Hey, let's play!" Shuhua yelled for all the girls to hear.

"Play what?" Isa asked.

"There's a deck of poker cards in there," Shuhua pointed to a wide door next to the main entrance. "We can play high or low, but fun."

"Oh no," you heard Yujin say from beside you. "This girl is going to finish us off."

"Come on, don't be boring!" Shuhua insisted, pushing Isa and Gaeul over.

Hanni walked over to you and grabbed onto your sleeve. She stood on her tiptoes to reach your ear.

"Shuhua scares me."

"Understandable, she scares me too," you sighed, and walked with Hanni and the rest of the girls into the room.

Shuhua opened the door, and you and Hanni froze when you looked inside the room.

"There you fucking where!" Hanni shouted in a full aussie accent English, seeing Minji with her back against the wall being kissed by ENHYPEN's Jungwon. They suddenly separated when they noticed they had been caught.

Shuhua burst out laughing, her hand resting on the door frame. Minji's cheeks were flushed, and Jungwon looked like he wanted to run away. Who knows why, neither of you were going to judge anything.

"Sorry to interrupt, cuties, but get lost," Shuhua said. "There are plenty of places in the rest of the house."

The girls all entered the room, while Isa and Yujin waited for the two of you.

They of you nodded and left the room. Minji approached Hanni to justify herself, but she held up her finger before she could say a word.

"Don't talk to me," Hanni said sharply.

"It was just a moment!" Minji protested.

You expected them to get into a full-blown argument, but Hanni acted like a lady and ignored her, pulling you along with her to the girls. Minji didn't try to stop her; you heard her grunt, turn around, and leave. Yujin and Isa stared at her, and were the last to enter as you walked past them.

The room wasn't too big, the dimensions just right to accommodate the nine of you a bit cramped. The only furniture was a wide wooden table, with two chairs arranged on either side. On the walls were traditional decorative paintings, and on the left, the largest, was a wide window that was covered by cream-colored curtains.

"We are nine people and there are only four chairs, now what?" Yoon asked.

"We do a preliminary round," said Shuhua, taking the cards from the center of the table. "The last four left have the right to sit."

"Aight, bet," Yoon nodded.

Shuhua took out the deck of cards from its box, shuffled them, and laid out a 6 of clubs.

"Higher," she said. The card she drew was a queen of hearts. "Ha! Next."

That's how you started playing. In the end, the four who survived were you, Seeun, Hanni, and Shuhua. Isa was no fool, and she was quick to sit on the right side of your lap when you took your chair. Yoon didn't hesitate to sit on Seeun's lap either.

"I can take two of you on my lap," Shuhua said, patting her knees. "Don't be shy."

Rei was the first to accept the offer, and Yujin was the other. Gaeul looked at Hanni, who was playing dumb.

"I don't want to be the only one standing!" Gaeul whined. Hanni laughed and adjusted her legs.

"Alright alright, come here silly," Hanni said.

Gaeul sat on her lap, and Hanni wrapped her arms around her.

"Alright, the rules are simple," Shuhua said, shuffling the cards again. "Higher or lower. If you fail, you must make a dare, and if you don't want to, you must drink."

"And who sets the dares?" asked Yujin.

"Me, of course!" said Shuhua. "I'm the hostess and also the dealer!"

"Oh, how convenient isn't it?" you said.

Shuhua showed you her palm.

"Sorry sir, we don't accept complaints."

You sighed.

"To be expected," you said to yourself, with a hand on Isa's waist.

Shuhua was again the first to play. The starting card was a king of spades.

"Lower," she said, and then pulled out the ace of hearts. "Fuck."

Everyone in the room laughed. Shuhua looked at you with narrowed eyes.

"Hey, king of Rome," she called you. "I'll let you be happy and let you be the one to give me the dare."

"Uh shit," you sat up straight. "Uhm…" you thought about it for a moment. "Aight, what kind of dare?"

"Whatever you want, honey, just hurry up."

"Alright, let them two lick your neck," you pointed at Rei and Yujin, who she had sitting on her lap.

"That's it?"

"It's the first damn round, what else do you want?"

Shuhua rolled her eyes.

"Fine," she looked at the girls. "You guys okay with that?"

"Girl, just show your damn neck," Yujin said.

Shuhua raised her head and pulled it back a little. Yujin and Rei leaned in, and planted their tongues on Shuhua's neck to slowly lick up. When they were done, the three of them laughed.

"Alright, now it's Yujin's turn," Shuhua said, drawing a new card since an ace couldn't be played. The new card was a 5 of diamonds. "Higher or lower?"

"Lower," Yujin said. The card Shuhua drew was a 4 of spades. Saved.

"Next," Shuhua looked at Isa after drawing a 7 of hearts. "Higher or lower?"

"Higher," Isa said. Shuhua drew a 2 of clubs. "Oh c'mon!"

"French kiss the person on your left," Shuhua said.

The person on her left happened to be you.

"Bah, I was expecting something harder," Isa said, wrapping her left arm around your neck and cupping your face with her free hand to kiss you. It wasn't anything new or difficult for you two, but doing it in front of seven other people certainly felt different.

Or so you thought until a few seconds later Isa was kissing you so sensually that you completely forgot they were watching you.

"Hey, that's enough!" Shuhua threw the plastic wrapper of the cards at you to separate you. "Next!"

You were next.

"Higher," you said immediately, wiping some of Isa's lipstick off your upper lip.

Shuhua pulled out a 3 of spades. Saved. You smiled haughtily.

"Ugh," Shuhua swore and looked at the next person, Hanni. "Higher or lower?"

"Uh… lower?" Hanni said, exhaling heavily when Shuhua pulled out a 5 of clubs. "Oh be kind, please."

"Mmm, draw a heart on someone's thigh with your tongue," Shuhua said.

Hanni hid behind Gaeul and sighed with her forehead resting against her back.

"Who?"

"Who's offering?" Shuhua asked.

Rei didn't say anything and stood up to go to the side of Hanni and Gaeul. She pulled her dress up to the end of her right thigh and displayed it. Gaeul stood up and stepped away, and Hanni looked at Rei and then at her thigh before kneeling in front of her, grabbing her behind the knee and slowly making the heart on the fleshiest part of Rei’s thigh with her tongue. Shuhua hadn't specified the size of the heart, but Hanni made it big. Quite a bit.

"Fuck girl, there was no need to make it that huge," Shuhua said with a laugh.

"Fuck it," Hanni said, standing up with her cheeks flushed just like Rei's, who returned to her seat (Shuhua's leg) visibly aroused. "Please let's not comment on it any further."

"Alright, alright," Shuhua looked at Gaeul. "Higher or lower?"

"Higher," Gaeul said. A 10 of spades was what Shuhua drew. Saved.

Next in order was Seeun. Shuhua looked at her.

"Higher," Seeun nodded, and Shuhua drew an ace of spades. Another save. "Hehe."

"You're damn lucky," Shuhua grumbled, drawing a 6 of spades, now looking at Yoon.

"Lower…?" Yoon grimaced, unsure. Shuhua pulled out a 10 of hearts. "Shit!"

"You had to listen to me," Seeun said.

"You had to listen to me," Yoon mimicked her in a stupid voice, then rolled her eyes.

"Ezio, lock the door," Shuhua told you. You did so, since you had it right to your right. "Alright, I dare you to let Seeunie kiss your belly, and yes, for that you have to lift up your dress."

Yoon blushed so fast that she looked like a thermometer about to explode. She opened her mouth to say something, but only stutters came out. Seeun didn't seem to have taken it any better: her gaze was lost, as she pursed her lips and her cheeks turned red.

"Jeez, who let her choose the dares?" Gaeul asked with a chuckle.

"That's the point. No one left her but she did it anyway," you said.

"Hey! This is a hot young adult party," Shuhua replied. "If you want I can take you all back to Inkigayo!"

Everyone at the table except Seeun and Yoon laughed.

"For God's sake no, I beg you," Yujin said.

"I'd rather do this than put up with the rude people at every damn music show," Hanni said. "So don't worry, no one's complaining."

"C-can we… do it in the bathroom?" Yoon asked.

Shuhua shrugged.

"You can drink too if you don't want to," she said.

"No!" Yoon said quickly, and you and Isa glanced at each other with a smile. "I-it's just… you're all going to see my panties."

“What’s wrong with them?”

“Jayun-ah,” Seeun grabbed her waist. “Just do it.”

Yoon bit her lip, closed her eyes, and stood up instantly. You and Isa raised your eyebrows and pressed together to watch the moment like someone watching their favorite k-drama ship finally step forward. The blonde faced Seeun, and without a second thought, lifted the skirt of her dress up to below her breasts.

"Hey, but those panties are really cute!" Shuhua complained, as if she had been blatantly lied to. Yoon's panties were pink, with little red heart outlines. You had to say that they looked really nice on her, and showed off a good amount of her surprisingly nice ass.

"S-shut up!" Yoon demanded.

Seeun grabbed her waist with the delicacy that a porcelain doll deserved, and knelt in front of her while staring into her eyes, holding her gaze until she planted her lips below her navel. Yoon's lips were parted, visibly panting as Seeun began to spread wet kisses all over her belly.

Isa leaned closer to your ear.

"This is making me horny," she whispered in your ear. "If I keep looking I'm going to lose control."

"What a weakling," you chuckled, shaking your head.

Hanni, with Gaeul still on her lap, leaned towards you. You leaned towards her so you could hear her.

"Are those two a couple?" she asked.

"The short answer is no," you answered, glancing at them. "I can tell you the long answer later."

Hanni nodded, pretending to understand, and returned to her normal posture.

“Enough!” Shuhua squealed between nervous laughs. “Hey hey hey.”

Seeun was forced to stop even though it was clear on her face that she wanted to continue. She let go of Yoon, stood up, and wordlessly sat down, pulling Yoon along with her and pulling her skirt back down to prevent you from seeing her anymore.

“Are you okay?” Shuhua asked Yoon.

“Just play,” Yoon replied, trying to calm down.

Shuhua smiled, looked at Rei, sitting on her right knee.

“Lower,” Rei said. Shuhua pulled out a jack of clubs. “Ugh.”

“Hey, before you go on,” Gaeul butted in. “I’m out of drink.”

You all checked your glasses. All empty.

“Anybody join me?” she asked, gathering the glasses.

“I’m going,” Hanni said.

“Me too,” Seeun said, giving way to Yoon. You had a sneaking suspicion that she didn’t really want to help and just wanted an excuse to get out and cool off.

Gaeul, Hanni, and Seeun grabbed all the glasses and left the room. Shuhua then looked back at Rei.

“Hmm, what can I do with you,” Shuhua wondered. “Alright, pick someone to spank you and let that person choose how hard. You must show your ass.”

“It should be noted that if you choose to drink you are a coward,” Yujin added, being anything but helpful.

“I wasn’t even planning on doing that,” Rei said, and stood up in between Shuhua and Yoon’s seat to bend over the table, leaning on her elbows. “Ezio, come here,”

“Heh, I knew it,” Shuhua said. “Predictable.”

“Why me?” you asked, looking Rei in the eyes.

“Because your hand is the biggest,” she replied.

“Hm,” you shrugged. “Fair.”

Isa got off your lap so you could stand up and go behind Rei. Only then, she grabbed the skirt of her dress and lifted it up to her lower back, revealing a nice, round, soft ass, adorned by black lace panties. You placed a hand on her lower back. Rei looked over her shoulder at you, and bent a little more against the table to arch her back and lift her ass.

“As hard as I want?” you asked.

“That’s what I said, yes,” Shuhua replied instead of Rei.

“Aight…”

Without thinking too much you raised your hand, and using your volleyball notions, used your entire torso to give your arm as much momentum as possible and give Rei a spank so hard it reverberated through the small room and resonated in your eardrums.

“Mgh!!” Rei squealed against her pursed lips.

“Oh gosh,” Yujin said. “That hurt even me.”

Shuhua was gaping in disbelief. Isa didn’t seem surprised at all, rather pleased. And Rei looked over her shoulder as her butt cheek quickly became red hot with the mark of your hand.

But Yoon seemed uneasy. She had her legs crossed over each other, her arms crossed in front of her abdomen and her eyebrows subtly arched. Seeun must have been excellent with her mouth, because you were certain she was extremely horny.

"That's why I wanted you to do it," Rei gasped, looking up at you.

You grabbed her bare waist with the same hand you had spanked her with.

"Are you okay?" you asked.

Rei stood up straight and left your hand on her waist.

"What do you think?" she winked at you.

"God, that shit sounded like a firecracker," Shuhua said as you let go of Rei and she went back to her leg. "Whatever, my turn. Lower."

Shuhua pulled out a queen of diamonds. She didn't even complain, just sighed and looked at you all, waiting for whoever wanted to dare her. It was Isa, sitting on your lap again, who leaned forward to rest her elbows on the table and look at her.

"Do a triple kiss with me and Rei-chan," Isa said. "But you two come."

Rei and Shuhua looked at each other, smiled, and stood up to walk over to the two of you. Rei sat on the other side of your lap, and Shuhua bent her knees in front of you to get closer to the other two and bring the three pairs of lips together in a sensual kiss that felt like coal straight into your furnace.

Just then the door to your right opened. Gaeul, Hanni, and Seeun widened their eyes and rushed inside so no one else would see.

"Damn we were only gone for five minutes!" Hanni said. She handed you your glass and put the others on the table. "Taste it and tell me if it's okay please."

You did so. The drink was a little too strong for your tastes, but it was delicious. A thumbs up was enough for Hanni to go sit with Gaeul in her chair.

Meanwhile, Shuhua, Isa and Rei seemed a little inspired and locked in their bubble. You definitely wouldn't be the one to stop them. But they were already getting a little too excited, as you heard subtle moans coming out of each other's mouths.

You exchanged glances with Yujin hoping to find help since this was happening just inches away from you, but she seemed to be enjoying it as much as you.

"Alright, enough!" Gaeul raised her voice between giggles. "My god! I'm going to pour the drink on you!"

Shuhua was the first to step away amidst mischievous giggles. She took her drink from Gaeul's hand and skipped back to her seat happily.

"Thanks, Chaeyoungie," Shuhua said to Isa, and blew her a peck.

"Can I stay here, oppa?" Rei asked, settling deeper into your lap and thus rubbing against your bulge. "You're cozy."

"I don't seem to have a choice," you said, and wrapped your arms around her and Isa.

"Yujinie!" Shuhua raised her voice.

"By probability, lower," Yujin said. Shuhua pulled out a king of clubs and you all laughed. That was bad luck. "What the…"

"Oh don't worry, I'll be nice to you," Shuhua patted her thigh. "Just go and give Hanni a peck."

Yujin looked at Hanni and raised an eyebrow.

"Just come, it could be worse," Hanni waved her hand at her.

Yujin stood up and went to Hanni. She gently cupped her face, and leaned in to give her a small kiss which to be honest, you felt a little jealous of.

"Mmm, what lip balm do you use?" Yujin asked Hanni, going back to Shuhua. "It tastes good."

"I don't remember the name, but it's coconut."

"Chaeyoung-ah!" Shuhua raised her voice again. The alcohol was already making her a little louder.

"Lower!" Isa said. Shuhua pulled out a 9 of diamonds. "Haha!"

"Bah!" Shuhua looked at you, and in her eyes you could see that it was best to pray that you didn't fail.

"Lo…wer?" you said after a few seconds of pondering. Shuhua pulled out a 10 of clubs. "Fuck my fucking life."

"Oh, you poor idiot," Shuhua sighed.

"Just shoot."

"Well…" Shuhua turned to look at Yoon, who now had Seeun on her lap and not vice versa. "Jayunie, how are you feeling?"

"Huh?" Yoon looked at the two of you.

"I mean, ever since Seeun kissed you down there you seem a little… restless."

Yoon's cheeks reddened again.

"I-I…"

Shuhua looked at you.

"Why don't you help her, Ezio?" she cocked her head. "The poor woman must be about to explode."

"Uhm…" you locked eyes with Yoon. She didn't seem closed to it, but she still looked stunned by Shuhua's insinuation. "Help in what way?"

"Oh please, you're not 12, boy. You know how."

You expected a more hesitant stance from Yoon, but she just nodded. Isa and Rei got up from your legs, so you could get up and wait for Yoon at the door.

“Oh, I almost forgot!” Shuhua stopped you when you had your hand on the knob. “I need witnesses, of course,” she turned to look at Seeun.

“M-me?” Seeun stood up hesitantly. “Well… only if they agree.”

“I don’t care,” you shook your head. Seeun walked with you, sharing glances with Yoon.

“I’m going too,” Rei stood up.

“I said just one witness,” Shuhua said.

“I know,” Rei stood behind you. “I’m going because I want to see.”

You sighed and opened the door.

“We’ll be right back. It’ll be quick, I think.”

You grabbed Yoon's hand, and along with Rei and Seeun, you walked outside.

"Where are we going?" Yoon asked.

"To my car," you said. "I thought of something fun."

"Uhm… okay?"

"Just trust me," you smirked.

You pushed your way through the crowd and walked out of the house, straight to the gate guarded by the security guards.

"We'll be back in a minute, buddy," you told one of them. "We'll get something in the car."

The security guard stepped aside and opened the gate for you to get out. As you crossed the street, you pulled out the keys to your Toyota Camry and pressed the button to unlock the doors.

"You two," you told Rei and Seeun. "Sit up front. I don't care who gets which seat."

Rie hurriedly opened the passenger door, and Seeun had no choice but to walk around the car and sit in the driver's seat. You opened one of the back doors, and nodded for Yoon to get in. When everyone was inside, you handed the keys and your unlocked phone to Seeun.

"Do you know how to turn on just the battery?" you asked.

Seeun looked at the key and looked at the side of the steering wheel to insert it.

"Uh… just one turn, right?"

"Aha."

Seeun turned the key and the entire dashboard of the car lit up.

"Alright, now turn on the AC and play whatever music you want from my Apple Music, okay?"

She nodded, turned on the AC and started searching for music on your phone. Now able to focus on Yoon, you settled in the middle of the back seats and turned to your right to see her. But before you could say anything or even react, she grabbed your face and crashed her lips against yours.

"Oh wow, that's fast," Rei laughed.

When you met Yoon a month and a half ago you never even considered the possibility that you might get to taste those full lips, but now that you felt them against yours and could taste it, you were happy to know that they were as spongy and soft as you could have imagined, with an addictive citrusy orange aftertaste.

Seconds later the music started playing inside the car. Seeun had put on On & On by Erykah Badu. Excellent tastes.

"I'm going to touch you, okay?" you asked.

"Why are you telling me, are you stupid?" Yoon replied.

"I'm sorry for being respectful, dumbass."

You slid one hand behind Yoon and grabbed her waist with your right hand, bringing the other to her thigh to caress the inside with your fingertips. As the kiss heated up your hand slowly moved up, until you reached her crotch and pressed your fingers against her slit. Her panties were soaked.

“Fuck woman, you’re dripping,” you gasped.

Yoon’s response was to bring her hand to the hardened bulge in your pants. She wasn’t obligated to do that since the help was supposed to be one-sided, but it was impossible to complain considering all the times you’d been teased throughout the night. Yoon was perfect for the task of relieving you, so it was now mutual help.

“And you’re too fucking hard,” Yoon said, massaging your cock over your pants. “Will you let me suck it?”

“I’d love to feel those lips around my cock,” you nodded, and again dove into her lips.

Yoon moaned against your lips and massaged harder. You slowly rubbed her slit up and down over her soaked panties, and a couple seconds later you used both hands to grab the skirt of her dress and roll it up over her tummy. She spread her legs accordingly, and let you slide your hand inside her panties to feel her wet folds against your fingers.

"Let me taste you?" you asked mid-kiss.

"I need it even more than you, what do you think?"

You pulled your hand out of Yoon's panties and grabbed them from the curb to pull them down her long legs. With the path clear you brought your hand back to her pussy to rub it, and the other you moved up the side of her torso to slide under her dress and squeeze one of her tits over her bra.

"Come here then," you said, and you moved away from her lips to grab one hand around her waist and the other under her knee to lay her down with her head resting on the door armrest. At that moment, Angel by Massive Attack started playing.

As you raised one knee on the seats and left the other on the floor of the car, something caught your attention in the front seats. Seeun was no longer in the driver's seat, she was on Rei's lap watching the two of you intently. She had her dress rolled up to the same height as Yoon, and Rei was groping her all over.

"Oppa, can you pass me Yoon's panties?" Rei pointed at them. They were on that annoying floor bump, just to your left.

"Uh… sure," you nodded, took them and gave them to her. Rei then rolled them up a bit and put them in Seeun's mouth.

“Hmmgh,” Seeun moaned with Yoon’s panties inside her mouth, lifting her hips to pull her own panties down to her knees so Rei could touch her pussy.

An active audience. Hot.

Yoon was already spreading her legs for you, one leaning against the back of the seats and the other hanging down to the floor. You took off your jacket, hung it on the driver's seat and laid face down with your face in front of Yoon's pussy. She tangled her fingers in your hair, and with a little tug she sank your mouth against her slit.

"Oh god," Yoon moaned, as you licked between her folds and her clit, soft and slow.

Yoon's pussy and her juices were delicious, they satisfied all the hunger you had been accumulating all that time and fulfilled a carnal need you didn't even know you had. She caressed your hair with her long fingers, giving it light tugs while her hips twisted subtly. You had one hand caressing her flat and soft abdomen, and the other pressing back her right thigh.

The music wasn't too loud, so you could still hear Yoon and Seeun moaning softly over it. At one point you looked to your left and noticed that Rei had Seeun spread-eagled, two fingers pumping in and out of her pussy. You definitely wouldn't have liked to be in Seeun's position, forced to watch as someone eats out her crush's pussy first. If you had to take it to personal examples, it would have been like watching Hanni being eaten out by Yujin.

Wait, it was Sully you had to be thinking of. Why the hell were you thinking of Hanni?

"E-Ezio…" Yoon panted. "Your cock… get it out."

You quickly sat up and worked on your pants to pull them down with your boxers to your ankles. Yoon sat up as well, lifting both of her tucked legs up onto the seats to grab your shaft with her right hand. She licked her lips, looking at Seeun for a few seconds and then at your cock.

“Oh god… I didn’t expect it to be this big,” Yoon gasped, slowly stroking your hard cock. “I want it inside me.”

“Suck it first,” you said, brushing her blonde hair behind her shoulders and behind her ears. “Make it nice and slippery for you.”

“Fuck, sure.”

Yoon bent down and laid on her side, her left arm draped over your thigh. You pushed all of her hair to the side so it wouldn’t get in her way, and she rewarded you by taking you right into her mouth, making you moan as you felt that pair of fluffy lips wrap around your shaft. Just then Lana Del Rey’s Doin’ Time started playing, giving you an extra hit of arousal that fit the moment perfectly.

You looked up and met Rei’s gaze. She held it without blinking, licking Seeun's neck as she fingered her faster and faster and made her moan louder than the music.

"You better take me with you later, oppa," Rei said as Yoon ran her lips up and down your cock, slurping up the saliva she purposely let slip. "I refuse not to taste that cock too."

"You can come here and do it," you replied with a hand on Yoon's waist.

"Aniyo," she shook her head. "I came to be a witness for your dare because I know Seeun would end up like this. I'm not going to intervene."

Yoon had her lips a couple of inches past the middle of your shaft, and pumped at a single, steady pace that was enough to make you moan under your breath. Her ass looked pretty cute too, so you lowered your hand there and groped it with strong squeezes.

"I don't see you being chained to the seat," you said.

"No, but do you think I'm capable of leaving this cutie helpless?"

No, she certainly wasn't capable of it. But you understood her perfectly. Seeun was extremely needy, desperate to feel the same pleasure Yoon felt and maybe imagine that she was the one giving it to her. Leaving her alone would be like leaving a puppy out in the rain.

"God, I need to cum Ezio," Yoon said, kneeling up and rubbing your slippery cock with her hand.

"Come here and ride me then."

You grabbed her waist and thigh to help her straddle you. Yoon looked into your eyes, put her hands on your shoulders and lifted her hips, so that you could take your cock straight and she could lower herself onto it. Her fingers tightened on your shoulders when your tip was inside, and her mouth was agape as your entire length filled her.

“Oh fuck!” Yoon moaned as her ass was pressed against your pelvis and you were fully inside her. She slid her hands to your neck and tightened her fingers around it. “I see why Chaeyoungie likes you.”

“Are you implying that she likes me only for my cock?” you said, your hands clenched on either side of her slim waist.

“That’s exactly what I’m implying,” Yoon nodded, and despite that, she cupped your face in her hands and kissed you just before she started moving up and down.

Yoon stifled small moans against your lips, which she kissed with a passion that infected you and made you run your hands all over her body, finally placing them on her ass to help her move on your cock.

How horny she was was reflected in the way she didn't even let twenty seconds pass before picking up the pace, with her arms around your neck and one of her hands on your head, her fingers clenched in strands of your hair. Now Digital Bath by Deftones was playing, a song you were sure Seeun hadn't chosen—she couldn't have anyway, of course—and that just came on randomly.

She wasn't the only one turned on by lust. When Yoon broke the kiss and buried her face in your neck to kiss it, you watched as Rei fucked Seeun's pussy with her fingers, in fast pumps that kept Seeun's gorgeous face permanently twisted in pleasure. Her gaze was fixed on one spot, and that was your cock as it went in and out of Yoon.

"I think someone wants to see your face," you said into Yoon's ear, looking at Seeun. "Turn around and give her what she wants."

Yoon turned over her shoulder, gave Seeun a quick glance and got off of your cock so she could turn her back to you, her feet planted on the seat on either side of your thighs. She pressed her back against your chest, grabbed your cock and impaled herself on it again.

Now you took control. With your hands on her waist and your feet firm against the floor of the car, you began to thrust up and down to fuck her fast and hard. Yoon instantly went crazy and filled the car with her loud moans, hitting keys on Seeun that made the music overlay with her moans as well.

"Does it turn you on more when you look into your girlfriend's eyes while you're getting fucked, Jayunie?" Rei asked with a mischievous giggle, fingering Seeun with one hand and rubbing her clit with the other.

Yoon didn't answer because her head was in another place, but you were sure that not a single word would have come out of her mouth anyway. Only then did you understand Shuhua's nefarious actions. All she wanted was that, for Yoon and Seeun to realize that they needed each other more than they imagined. A bit of an extreme way, you could say. But in Isa's words, those two had been stuck for years; it was time for them to move forward by hook or by crook.

And by crook it would be, because half a minute later Yoon exploded into spasms and loud whimpers. Seeun went crazy about it, shaking on top of Rei and clinging to her when seconds later she came too. The two of them filled the car with their cute moans, and their pleasure made your own automatically grow. As a result, you felt your climax suddenly approaching.

“Jayun-ah…” you gasped. “I’m gonna cum, where…?”

“In my mouth!” Seeun butted in.

You frowned. You weren’t expecting that, but you weren’t going to complain either.

You quickly pushed Yoon off of you as Seeun bent over the center console. You knelt on the floor of the car, and Seeun stuck her tongue out for you to press your tip against as you rapidly stroked your cock. A few seconds later you exploded, and Seeun caught you between her lips to suck off every jet of cum that shot into her mouth.

“Oh my god…” you moaned, one hand behind Seeun’s head and the other holding onto the headrest of the seat where Rei was.

Seeun sucked on as much of the length of your shaft as she could, moaning through every inch as she swallowed your load and at the same time savored the taste of Yoon's pussy. It was perfect for her. She enjoyed it with deep, slow pumps, leaving your cock perfectly clean and glistening.

When your orgasm passed and Seeun pulled you out of her mouth she seemed to finally realize what she had done and what was happening, as she looked at all of you and her cheeks reddened in embarrassment.

"Please, not a word of this to anyone," she said, and wiped her lips with the back of her hand before returning to the pilot's seat.

"I'm a tomb, don't worry about it," you nodded.

Rei helped Seeun get ready again, leaving Yoon to you.

"Are you okay?" you asked the blonde, sitting back in the seats. Yoon was leaning against the left door, legs drawn up and breathing heavily.

"Yeah… perfect," Yoon nodded. "I take back what I said just now: Chaeyoungie doesn't just like you for your dick; you're really cute as well."

"Oh, uhm… thanks?"

"You're welcome. Now pass me my panties."

You handed Yoon her panties and pulled up your boxers and pants as she put on her underwear. Seeun was already somewhat composed, and was checking her makeup in the roof mirror. She handed you your phone, and you unlinked it from the car stereo as you leaned forward and pulled the key out from the side of the steering wheel. You also took your jacket and put it back on.

Rei was the first to get out of the car, and Seeun followed. Before Yoon could open her door you grabbed her wrist to stop her.

“Huh?” she raised an eyebrow.

“Tell Seeun how you feel about her,” you said quietly. “I don’t care how or where or when. But it has to be tonight.”

Yoon looked at Seeun through the front window, chewing on the inside of her bottom lip. The poor thing was dying of nerves.

"I-I don't know if I can do it Ezio…"

"You can and you should," you squeezed her wrist a little tighter so she would look at you. "One of you two has to make the move."

"But what if she rejects me?"

"Don't talk nonsense, Jayun-ah. You drive her crazy. It's obvious."

Yoon fell silent and took a deep breath.

"If it goes wrong I'll kill you."

"There's no possible way it can go wrong. Just trust."

"Fine."

You let go of Yoon's wrist and she opened the door to get out of the car with you following behind. You joined Rei and Seeun, who were waiting to cross the street. Then, purposely, you stepped forward to grab Rei's hand and pull her with you to leave the other two alone.

"I really hope this works," you muttered, crossing the street with Rei. Yoon and Seeun followed a few steps behind.

“Yeah, I’ve never felt so much sexual tension between two people who weren’t fucking at the moment,” Rei said, and squeezed your hand to press against you as you walked. “And I’ve definitely never seen a guy use his dick that well.”

The guards caught a glimpse of you blushing as you reached the gate again. Both men stepped aside to let you through, and within seconds you were back in the crowd. Just as a ruckus was forming in the yard.

As you took a few steps into the living room and took a closer look, you noticed that they had set up a ping pong table filled with party cups. Some guys from ENHYPEN and The Boyz were the ones playing.

“Where the fuck did they get a ping pong table?” was the only thing you could ask yourself.

“I have no idea, but come on! It looks fun!”

Rei pulled you with her outside. Near the circle that was now forming around the ping-pong table you found Isa, Shuhua, and Hanni. Shuhua was the first to notice you.

“Uhhh, look who we have back,” Shuhua said with a giggle. “Did you have a good time, champ?”

“I think those two had a better time,” you replied, standing behind Isa and Hanni, who were watching Enhypen’s Sunghoon and The Boyz’s Juyeon compete.

Shuhua looked back. Seeun and Yoon came up behind you. Looking at them you noticed that they were holding hands. Yoon probably wouldn’t have said anything to her yet, but it was progress.

“Did what had to happen happen?” Shuhua asked.

“That and more,” Rei replied. “Where are my girls?”

Shuhua shrugged.

"When we left the room they said they were going to find someone. I haven't seen them since."

Rei growled and let out a low curse.

"I'm sure those bitches went to eat without telling me!" Rei complained. "And I've been saying all the way that I'm hungry!"

"Then go find them in the kitchen," you pointed with your chin. "But don't be long, I'm dying to beat you at beer pong."

Rei raised her eyebrows and looked at you.

"Is that a challenge?"

"No, it's a statement."

She gasped indignantly.

"You better be damn good," Rei pointed at you. "Because if you lose I'll make fun of you all night."

"Whatever," you shrugged. "I never lose to these things."

"We'll see," Rei said, and turned to disappear into the crowd.

You stepped forward and put your left hand on Isa's waist. You grabbed Hanni by the shoulder.

"Are you going to play?" you asked.

"Maybe," Hanni nodded. "But not against you. You look like you're going to make me drink seven times in a row and I'm very bad."

"What I smell is fear?"

"Yeah! Do you think I'm a good drinker or something?"

"You can't be worse than Chaeyoung."

Isa looked at you with a frown.

"Hey! What do you say about me?!" She gave you a little push.

"Okay, I know who I'm playing against then," Hanni said.

The wait for one of you to play was a bit long, but it was totally worth it to see everyone destroy each other. The funniest thing of all was watching Cho Miyeon tear apart a foreign guy you assumed she was dating, because they left there giggling and not very subtle groping. From then on, it became a kind of tournament where the person who lost immediately gave someone else a spot. It didn't matter how many times a person won, as long as they didn't lose, they could keep playing if they wanted to. Luckily for you, two people went out at the same time and Isa and Hanni were finally able to play. But it was a fucking disaster.

Each person had 10 shots each per round. No more, no less. And the winner was the one who got the ball into a glass the most times. Well, out of 10 shots Hanni got 2, losing to Isa who got just one more. That meant 3 shots of vodka for Hanni.

"My god, you weren't lying when you said you were terrible," you said when Hanni came back to you and Shuhua replaced her. Whenever you were alone, you spoke to her in English.

"Shut up man," Hanni sighed, wiping the sweat from her forehead with her hand. "At least I made her drink twice."

"And now Shuhua's gonna make her drink more."

Isa gave Shuhua a good run for her money, hitting 5 balls out of 10. But Shuhua beat her by hitting 7. Isa came back to you with her face scrunched up from all the vodka all of a sudden, and you grabbed her waist to steady her.

"Honey, please go drink some water," you said, noticing that she wasn't feeling well. "Hanni, can you take her?"

"Yeah, sure," Hanni nodded, linking arms with Isa to head towards the kitchen.

"So? Who's next, weaklings?" Shuhua asked loudly. No one in the crowd watching dared to compete against her just because she seemed too self-confident.

“Get off your high horse, woman,” you took a step forward. “Or do I have to get you off your high horse?”

“I want to see you try!” Shuhua challenged you, arms akimbo. “Come on!”

You stood on the opposite side of the table, and after filling the empty cups with vodka, you let her begin.

Shuhua was good, that was fair. She managed to hit 5 shots in total. But you were on another level: you beat her with 8 shots out of 10 possible.

“That's revenge for Chaeyoungie, you harpy,” you said with a sly smile, watching as she coughed from the burning of the vodka in her throat. You weren't in much better shape, but you had cheated a little by putting less vodka in the cups on your side.

Shuhua was so devastated that she simply retreated back to the circle. Then more opponents came for you, and you beat them all, some by the smallest of margins and others by a huge margin, with Yoon Jeonghan and Somi giving you the most trouble. Rei also showed up to lose, and neither Yujin nor Gaeul dared.

You felt virtually invincible. Everyone around you was impressed, believing that no matter who faced you, you would beat them by landslide.

Until she arrived.

"Well, I'm sorry I took so long," Baek Jiheon said, looking into your eyes, placing her hands on the other edge of the table. "But this is where your unbeaten streak ends, Ezio."

She was backed up by some of her group mates. Meters behind you stood Nagyung, Seoyeon, and Jisun, all looking at you between giggles and saying things to each other.

“How do you know my name?” you raised an eyebrow.

“That cutie over there told me,” Jiheon pointed to Ryujin on your left, who you had beaten a few rounds back. “It’s a cute name.”

“Almost as cute as your smile,” you said.

Jiheon giggled, proving you right by flashing her sunshine smile.

“Nice try, hunk, but you’re not gonna soften me up.”

“Too bad,” you reached out your hand to her. “Please start.”

“Nah. You start. I’m not scared.”

The one who was scared now was you.

The words lingered in your mouth. You rubbed your chin and cheek, then picked up the ball to take your first shot.

You missed.

Everyone broke out into a small cheer and laughed. Jiheon caught the ball and smiled at you.

“What’s wrong, did I make you nervous or something?” Jiheon raised an eyebrow.

She made her shot with a confident flick of her wrist. The ball went in perfectly after two bounces. More cheers for the home team. You took a deep breath and took the vodka shot without a frown.

Focused on not screwing up, you made your shot.

Only to miss again.

The cheers this time confirmed what you already knew: everyone wanted you to lose. It didn’t bother you, rather you understood; you had humiliated them all. You would have wanted you to lose too.

“You’re not so cocky now huh?” Jiheon asked with the ball in her hand.

“No, but you’re too talkative and I’ve only had two attempts.”

Jiheon threw the ball and scored it again, making you curse under your breath. It was going to be a pain, but you could come back, you were sure.

Your next attempt meant your first scored ball. Jiheon took her shot without protest, knowing it was something that could happen. However, you didn't see her as calm when she missed her next ball and you scored yours. Now you were tied.

"You're not so cocky now huh?" you repeated her words in the same tone of voice.

Jiheon hadn't taken kindly to that. Any hint of kindness or amusement in her countenance disappeared, and her gaze focused entirely on the game. She scored her ball, telling you with her eyes to dare to say something else.

You definitely didn't. Instead of giving free rein to your tongue, you focused on trying to get the game through. If you were losing to someone else, you wouldn't have cared less, but Jiheon had gotten on your nerves. It was kill or be killed. Win or win.

You made your next ball, the third in a row. Jiheon clicked her tongue, more focused on making the next ball than taking her shot of vodka. She didn't care about drinking as many times as necessary, she just wanted to beat you.

Jiheon made the next ball and took the lead. 3 to 4 in her favor. There were five turns left for each of you. For the next two you thought you had it all under control, because you made two in a row and she missed two in a row, leaving you 5 to 4.

But everything from there was a disaster. You missed the last three, and she made them all, in a comeback that when completed made everyone erupt in a tidal wave of cheers that made you feel like Roberto Baggio in the 1994 World Cup final against Brazil. Just like him, you died standing up.

Jiheon went to celebrate with her group mates, while you just stood there with your arms akimbo and your gaze lost in the cups. Part of that was because you were dead inside, but a lot of it was the fault of all the alcohol you had put into your body in such a short time. Or rather, that Jiheon had made you put in.

You expected one of the girls to come and comfort you, but none of them showed up. You didn't even see them in the crowd; god knows where the hell they had gone. It was strange, but you would look for them later. At that moment you just wanted and needed a cigarette, so you took your pack of Marlboros out of the inside pocket of your jacket, put it between your lips and moved towards the dining area that was on the side of the house to light it.

The cigarette wasn't going to make you feel better physically, not exactly. But it was going to help you get over all the stress that the match against that damn woman had caused you. As well as help you get over the dizzy state that the vodka shots had left you in.

“Hey, don’t feel bad,” a voice said to your right. You looked up from your phone to see Jiheon approaching you with her hands on her back. “You fought against all odds. That’s to be admired.”

You chuckled, looking her up and down as she stood in front of you. You leaned back against the wall behind you.

“You came to keep making fun of me or what?” you asked, and took a drag on the cigarette.

“Nah, I already made fun enough by wiping the floor with you just now,” Jiheon took the cigarette from your lips as you brought it back to your mouth. She brought them to hers and took a drag.

“Then what, to take my cigarette away?”

Jiheon giggled, blowing smoke to the side. The contrast of her sunny smile with the cigarette in her hand was funny.

"Close, but no," She took a step towards you. "This is what I came for."

In the blink of an eye Jiheon pressed herself against your body, grabbed your cheek with her free hand and crashed her lips against yours, leaving you as surprised as confused. As the seconds passed you let yourself go, and after wrapping your arms around her waist you reciprocated her kiss.

Jiheon made her intentions clear from the start, attacking your mouth with her tongue and swirling it with yours. The level of alcohol in your body suppressed all remaining decorum in you, so without thinking you lowered both hands from her waist to her ass to squeeze it, finding a pair of round and soft buttocks.

"I could have slapped you for that," Jiheon murmured against your lips.

"And why didn't you?"

"Because you're too fucking hot for me to resist," she replied, giving you more kisses. "You're my type and I love exotic guys."

"Thanks I guess?" you returned the kisses on her lips and right cheek. "You fit my standards pretty well, I must say. That smile of yours melts me."

"Oh yeah? Wait till you feel my pussy from behind then."

"Alright girl, we're going upstairs."

You took the cigarette from her, threw it on the floor to light it out with a stomp, and took her hand to take her with you.

You walked close to the wall, as discreetly as possible so as not to attract too much attention. When you entered the house you did the same, skirting the entire crowd of rowdy people until you reached the stairs that led to the second floor. You quickly climbed them. And once upstairs you decided to go with her into the first room you came across, which was apparently the master bedroom.

When you entered you locked the door behind you, and when you turned around Jiheon threw her arms around your neck to kiss you again.

With your hands on her waist you took a few steps with her until you stood in the center of the room. Jiheon caressed the hair on your neck and slid her hands under the shoulders of your jacket to take it off, letting you grope your ass as much as you wanted. She whimpered against your lips, inviting you to continue touching her.

You lifted the skirt of her short dress and held it around her waist with your forearms so you could give her spongy ass cheeks a good squeeze. Jiheon responded by placing both hands on your chest and then lowering one to the bulge in your pants, which she massaged until hard.

“Oh, you’ve got a nice piece of meat down there,” Jiheon murmured against your lips. “Can I take a look?”

You nodded, and Jiheon got on her knees in front of you to unbuckle your belt, pull down your zipper, and grab both your pants and boxers to slide them down to your heels. Your cock made her jump as it sprang free and hit her face. She smiled, and tightened her fingers around your base to scrutinize your shaft.

"I'm sorry to say that it won't all fit in my mouth," Jiheon said, looking into your eyes as she moved her hand up your cock. "But there's no need."

Jiheon took you into her mouth, lowering her lips until she reached halfway up your shaft. Her pumps started out slow, using her tongue to lick the underside of your cock and her hand to jerk you off at the same time. You gasped, one hand on the back of her neck, watching her as she slowly picked up the pace.

She was right: it wasn't necessary for your entire length to fit inside her mouth. Just a couple more inches than halfway was the most she could take, but it was enough to make you moan and curl your toes inside your shoes.

"You like it?" Jiheon asked, stroking near your tip as she kissed the underside of your shaft and licked it. "Fuck, I can't wait for you to put it all inside me."

"And I can't wait either," you said, and grabbed her arms to pull her to her feet, making her climb onto the bed and onto her hands and knees at the edge, with a perfect, sexy arch of her back. Her dress rose up a little on its own. You just had to give her skirt a little tug forward to make it loose around her waist, revealing Jiheon's surprisingly big and delicious ass. "Look at that… you're hiding a whole cake huh?"

Jiheon folded her hands on top of each other and rested her cheek on them to look at you over her shoulder.

"I'm not a believer in showing off good things, but rather giving them as a privilege," she said, spreading her knees a little further and raising her ass higher, making her pussy lips peek out from the sides of her black panties.

For the first time that night you took off the glove on your right hand, bringing it to her pussy and rubbing it over her panties, which you noticed were slightly wet. Her ass looked like an appetizer, and you couldn't help but get on your knees on the floor, push her panties aside and with your hands on each buttock, sink your mouth into her pretty pink pussy.

"Oh yeah," Jiheon moaned softly, while you licked between her folds and kissed her clit. "I knew that mouth wasn't good for just bragging."

Fuck, were you that cocky a few minutes ago? The compliment made you chuckle, and also gave you the confidence to eat her pussy as well as your own skills would allow.

Jiheon eventually let out more and more cute moans. Indicators of the good job you were doing. Her pussy was delicious. Addictive. And groping those soft buttocks only made you even more feral. But remembering her words, you felt a sudden and uncontrollable need to give both of you what you both craved.

You stood up, and with your saliva-covered cock in hand, you held Jiheon by the waist ready to finally penetrate her.

Until someone tried to open the door.

You and Jiheon turned your necks towards the door and remained paralyzed. Completely silent and even holding your breath. Whoever was on the other side tried to turn the knob once more, and after a few seconds, stopped insisting.

"God, my heart almost jump- oh fuck!!" Jiheon moaned as you took your tip inside her. "I was just talking!"

You held back a smile, biting your bottom lip, watching as your cock was engulfed between her silky, wet folds until it disappeared completely inside her. Jiheon panted, looking at you as you rested with your pelvis pressed as hard as possible against her buttocks.

"Come on daddy, use me," Jiheon purred, leaning up on her forearms. "Fuck me hard."

You wished you could be stronger, but whenever a girl used that damn word on you, you went crazy. It was like turning on several fuses at the same time, and several of them gave you a sudden shot of energy that eliminated every bit of tiredness in your body. With that exquisite sensation running through your veins, you began to fuck her.

Jiheon delighted your ear with her soft, cute moans as you pumped your hips all the way back and then all the way in, hands on her ass cheeks squeezing and rubbing them in circles. Her pussy felt warm. Silky in every right corner. And it made you gasp with every pump.

Seconds passed and you turned up a gear or two. Jiheon's ass now jiggled with every thrust, and her moans often turned into whimpers of pleasure. You lowered your hands to her waist, leaving them there for a moment before sliding your right hand inside her dress and into the middle of her back. Then you started going really hard, making the bed shake.

"Yes yes yes!" Jiheon whimpered, her face pressed into the mattress. Her hands crumpling the sheets beneath them. "I love that daddy don't stop!"

A little less than a minute later you made her cum. Jiheon squirmed in pleasure, reaching out a hand to grab one of the pillows and hit it with her fist. You continued to fuck her with slow pumps, and when her orgasm passed, you changed her position. On her side now, legs drawn up. She kicked off her heels, while you kicked off your shoes and left your piled-up pants and boxers behind to climb into bed with her.

Jiheon shifted further towards the center of the bed, giving you room to kneel in front of her and take your cock back inside her. You both moaned. And you, with one hand on her waist and the other on her thigh, returned to the frantic, rough pace. A few moments later you leaned forward and grabbed the back of her neck to kiss her again.

Climax now felt imminent for you too, so you broke away from her lips to look into her eyes.

“I’m gonna cum,” you panted, pounding her pussy. “Tell me where you want it.”

Jiheon looked into your eyes, words caught in her throat and mouth parted between ragged breaths.

“Tell me!” you urged her on, grabbing a handful of her hair.

“Fill me up daddy, please!” she managed to spit out, eyebrows twisted and hands clamped around your shoulders. “I’m on birth control so don’t hold back!”

And gladly you did. A moan left your mouth as with one hard thrust you exploded, spilling spurt after spurt inside Jiheon’s warm pussy with slow thrusts.

“Fuck that feels so good,” Jiheon moaned lowly, both hands on your head, fingers stroking through strands of your hair as you emptied your balls inside her.

You crashed your lips against hers, muffling moans against the other’s mouth. When your climax passed, you straightened your back and pulled out of her to watch as your cum spilled out of her pussy.

"Can I ask for your number?" you asked, panting.

"I was going to give it to you without you asking," Jiheon replied, making her cute little smile return. "Give me your phone."

"Wait, I'll get you something to clean yourself up with."

You climbed out of bed and found the bathroom. Inside you grabbed the entire roll of toilet paper and went back to give it to her. You and she cleaned yourselves up, and got ready to go out again.

"Alright, your phone," Jiheon put her palm out.

You took it out of the phone and gave it to her already unlocked. Jiheon wrote down her number and saved it as Jihoney.

"I'll probably text you tomorrow afternoon. I don't think I'll be up before that," you said.

"Ah don't worry," Jiheon shook her head. "Just do it when you can."

"Cool," you grabbed her waist and pulled her in for a little more kiss. A few seconds later you pulled away. "I'll treat you to lunch on a weekday, if you want."

"I'm free on Wednesday after I get off practice," she replied, hands on your chest.

"Can I pick you up?"

"I think so," Jiheon nodded. "I'll let my manager know."

"Alright," you let go. "Come on. I'm hungry."

You took Jiheon by the hand and walked out of the room. Outside you got another scare.

"Oh, I wasn't expecting you guys there," Soyeon said, leaning with her arms crossed against the large window just up the stairs.

Suddenly you felt the embarrassment rise and fall several times, like a broken fair strength game. The last thing you expected was to be caught by one of the party hosts. Not that she seemed upset, but the money to rent that house hadn't exactly come out of your pocket.

"God, were you the one trying to open the door just now?" you asked, as Jiheon and her greeted each other with polite bows.

"No, but it must have been my idiot boyfriend," Soyeon replied, and pointed her thumb towards the other side of the hallway. "They must be over there then."

"They?"

"Yeah. Him and Miyeon. You must have seen them together the whole party."

"Oh, sorry…"

"No, it's consensual," Soyeon pushed herself off the wall. "But that bastard didn't wait for me. So I'll give them a good scare."

“Well, good luck with that,” you bowed, stepping past her to set foot on the first step. “Thanks for the party by the way.”

“Sure, have fun.”

You and Jiheon made your way down the stairs. Down there the party had apparently reached a fever pitch already. Everywhere you looked there were people dancing in groups, playing drinking games, making out, or clowning around. In fact, the beer pong table wasn’t even good for that anymore. Now there were two assholes standing on top of it doing who knows what.

“What are you going to do now?” Jiheon asked.

You checked your phone and were surprised at how early it was compared to what you thought: barely 12:30.

“I think I’ll go to the kitchen to get something to eat,” you said, now looking at her. “If there’s anything left of course. And you?.”

“I’ll go find my unnies,” Jiheon replied, standing on her tiptoes and looking through the crowd. “I have no idea what time we’re leaving.”

“Aight. Good luck with that sweetie,” you grabbed her arm and caressed it affectionately.

“Yeah, I’ll see you later oppa,” Jiheon smiled, and leaned over to give you a peck on the cheek.

Jiheon disappeared into the crowd, and seconds later you saw her walk out into the yard. You went to the right, straight towards the kitchen. As you entered you were surprised to not find as many people as a while ago; there were only four or five people talking.

“Excuse me, please,” you said to NCT’s Doyoung, who was right in front of the fridge.

“Oh, sorry,” he bowed and stepped aside.

As you opened the huge fridge your eyes widened. It was filled with food of all kinds: cheese and sausage boards, ham and cream cheese rolls, stuffed empanadas, cut fruit, among other things. But what made you drool and your eyes shine was a whole ass tiramisu cake. It was your favorite damn dessert, and you were going to eat half of it by yourself if necessary. Yes.

Without any shame you grabbed the whole tray and took the cake out of the refrigerator to leave it on a counter while you looked for a spoon. Then you grabbed the tray, and went to the dining area to find the gratifying surprise that it was free for you to sit alone.

You sat on the right side of the table, and spoon in hand you proceeded to be the happiest man in the world the moment you took the first spoonful to your mouth. Nothing could bring you down from your cloud of satisfaction at that moment. You didn't even feel dizzy from the alcohol anymore. It was your damn peak.

But of course, in a place with so many people, calm was fleeting.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a group of boys approaching from the yard, laughing amongst themselves. Not paying attention to them would be the best option.

The boys stampeded into the deck, talking about something about the nice ass of a girl whose name you didn't hear. You thought you'd be spared from having to socialize, but one of them stood next to you.

"Hey man, do you mind if we sit here?" he asked you, speaking to you in English, surely having noticed that you were a foreigner. When you looked up, you met the gaze of Kim Hoonjoong, ATEEZ leader. "We don't want to bother, it's just that we've been standing for a while and our legs hurt."

He was accompanied by Yunho, Mingi, Yeosang and Seonghwa. You had to admit that you were a big fan of them and their music, but you weren't going to show it so as not to make them uncomfortable.

You were pretty calm there by yourself. But aside from the fact that you couldn't refuse because the table wasn't yours, they didn't seem like bad guys.

"Yeah, sure," you nodded. "I can speak Korean, by the way. Do you want cake?"

Fuck, why had you said that? You were too nice sometimes, and that cake was fucking delicious.

"Oh yeah, thanks!" Hongjoong said, sitting next to you. "Yunho, can you get some plates?"

"Sure."

Yunho left to get the plates while the rest of the boys sat down. When he came back you all wolfed down the cake, and well, you had unintentionally made friends.

They turned out to be chiller than you could have imagined. It also helped that you found a very strong common interest, which was football. You were very happy to have that topic of conversation, because since you had arrived in Korea you had never met someone to talk to about it. And so a whole hour passed.

Now you were all drinking at the table, discussing which national football teams were among the greatest in history and which were not. You were leading the conversation at the moment, staunchly defending Spain.

"But how can you say no when they won two Euro Cups in a row and a World Cup in between?" you said with your hands on the table. "That's enough merit!"

"Ezio?" a new voice said to your left, from the other side of the glass door that led to the kitchen. You turned to see Isa standing under the frame, accompanied by Rei and Shuhua. "Where were you all this time?"

You folded your hands on the table and looked at her with a poker face.

"I can ask you the exact same thing," you replied. "Where the fuck did you go while I was playing beer pong out there?"

"We were in the bedroom down here playing charades because your girlfriend wasn't feeling well, remember?" Shuhua replied. You noticed her cheeks were flushed from the alcohol.

"Yeah but I told Hanni to take her to the kitchen. And where the fuck is she by the way?"

"Oh, she stayed in the room," Rei said. "She has a headache."

"And you did something about it?"

"Uh… let her rest?"

"My god," you sighed, bringing your fingers to your temple. "I guess that's enough."

"Are you coming with us or not?" Isa asked.

"Where?"

"Are you stupid?"

"Alright alright I'm going," you said, getting up from your seat. "Hey, see you guys later."

You dapped up each of them. They already had your number, so that wouldn't be the last time you'd hang out together.

"On a scale of one to ten how drunk are you?" Isa asked you as you started walking with them into the living room.

"Uh…" you thought about it for a moment. "Right now, six."

Isa looked at Shuhua and Rei waiting for their answers.

"Seven," Shuhua said.

"Five," Rei said.

"I think seven too," Isa said with a giggle.

"Is that your limit?" Shuhua asked you.

"I'm afraid so," you said, dodging a girl who almost ran into you. "I can't get drunk off my ass; I have to drive."

"Well we don't!" Shuhua said with a laugh.

You stopped inside a small hallway at the other end of the living room where there were two doors on either side. Before entering the one on the right you grabbed Shuhua by the forearm.

"I'm sorry to say that if you want what I know you want I won't let you get that drunk."

"Huh? Why?" Shuhua looked you up and down. "We're celebrating!"

"You choose how to celebrate," you shrugged. "One option is better than another. That's all I'll tell you."

Shuhua looked at you and then at the girls. She seemed to once again realize how good the night could turn out for you, and it was certainly best for her not to protest and throw the opportunity away. Still, she looked annoyed at being bossed around.

"Ugh whatever," Shuhua rolled her eyes and opened the door.

Inside the small room was Hanni, lying down with her head leaning against the backrest and a blanket covering her legs. She had her phone horizontally in her hands, and you could hear her playing something. When you entered she didn't look at you, focused on the screen. Yoon and Seeun were lying next to her. Both asleep. The blonde was hugging the brunette from behind.

"Where the hell were you, man?" Hanni asked you again in English as you took a seat on a single reclining sofa.

"Are you all going to ask me that now?" you replied, and took a sip of the soft drink of vodka you were currently holding. "You guys disappeared."

Shuhua set her drink on a counter under the wall-mounted TV and came to sit on your lap, right on top of your bulge. She pretended to adjust herself just to rub against you. It was obvious she had chosen the good option for celebration.

"If you had really looked for us, you would have found us!" Isa protested, sitting at Hanni's feet on the bed. “Or were you doing something else more important? Huh?”

Shit. She knew.

“When I lost to Jiheon I went to smoke a cigarette and then I made friends with the ATEEZ guys,” you said, hoping it would work. “We were just sitting there and then we went to the kitchen.”

“Oh, someone managed to beat you?” Rei asked, going to sit on Isa’s knee. “She must have been really good.”

“Yeah, really, really good,” Shuhua reaffirmed with her hands on your thighs, looking over her shoulder at you with her back arched. She was blatantly teasing you in front of the other three. Hanni didn’t seem to give a damn tho. “I wonder what she did to do that.”

"She was just better than me. There was nothing special about it," you said, and put your hands on Shuhua's waist.

"Sure?" Isa said, one eyebrow raised. "She has a very cute smile."

"And?"

"You have a weakness for cute smiles," she pointed out. "And don't you dare refute that."

"I wasn't going to, but I don't know how that has anything to do with anything."

Isa sighed.

"Ezio, honey, I looked everywhere for you and you weren't there. You're just delaying the inevitable."

"Then why are you interrogating me?"

"To see how far you'll stretch the lie and see how much we can punish you later."

Hanni frowned and looked away from her phone when she heard the word 'punish'. She looked at you and held back a laugh; she knew you were cooked.

"Uhm…"

"If you confess now we won't be so harsh later," Rei said, and took a chocolate bar that Hanni had passed to her.

Suddenly you were backed into a corner. What the fuck were you supposed to say? The chivalry in you didn't make it easy to confess such a thing, but you felt like you had no choice. Damn, what a fucking pain.

You let out a tired breath.

"Yeah, I had sex with her," you said. "Happy?"

Isa smiled from ear to ear and gave small claps.

"Just what I wanted to hear," she said, and cocked her head. "It wasn't that hard, was it?"

"Look on the bright side, you earned a little mercy," Shuhua said before standing up. "Hey, let's go outside. It's fun out there."

Isa turned to look at Hanni.

"Feeling better?" she asked.

"Hmmm," Hanni turned off her phone and laid it face down on her chest. Her gaze was lost for a moment. "I think so."

"Come on then!"

Isa walked over to her and helped her stand up. Hanni wobbled as she got out of bed.

"Shit," Hanni cursed under her breath. "I'm fine, I'm fine."

"Alright, then let's let the lovebirds sleep," Isa said, before everyone headed outside.

From that point on, everything went downhill.

It was funny, because you didn't really consider yourself a social butterfly. But by 3:30 in the morning, you were sure you had talked to every single person in that house, whether by choice or by chance. And you would never have expected the array of new friends you have made.

The girls behaved and maintained a normal level of drunkenness. Even Hanni, who didn't really have to stay lucid at all, preferred not to go crazy over having fun with y’all. You couldn't say the same for some of the other people close to you. Minji was completely shitfaced, staggering every three steps and drowsy. Yuqi, who you'd also been chatting with for a while, was the kind of drunk who got unbearable and was annoying half the world along with Kep1er's Xiaoting. And for that matter, Yujin and Gaeul were lying on the main couch in the living room, both fast asleep after having overindulged in alcohol.

You, for your part, weren't even drinking anymore. You had another long, hour-long drive to your place ahead of you, and you wanted to be as sober as possible to avoid trouble. The last thing you wanted was to be randomly pulled over by the police and given a huge fine for driving under the influence.

"Honey, can you accompany me to the bathroom?" Isa asked you. By now you were standing in the yard, near the railing overlooking the hill. "I don't want to go alone."

"Yeah, sure, let's go."

Isa took your hand, and you walked with her into the house. The crowd had thinned out since a good number of people had left not too long ago, so you didn't have to weave through so many groups of people to get to the bathroom, which was right across from the room where Yoon and Seeun were sleeping.

You had already taken out your phone to check IG while you waited outside for Isa, but when she opened the door, she grabbed your jacket and pulled you inside with her. Before you could protest, Isa pinned you against the closed door and grabbed your face to crash her lips against yours.

Her hands quickly slid to your neck, then your shoulders, then down your chest until one of them rested on your cock. Your hands also ran over her fleshy, perfect body, lingering in each of your favorite places until you ended up at her ass. Isa squeezed your cock harder and moaned against your lips.

"You haven't paid attention to me all night, just so you know," Isa murmured against your lips. "Did you forget it was me who brought you here?"

"I haven't forgotten, Chaeyoung," you retorted, groping her ass. "But we were both busy with our own things."

Isa chuckled and bit your lower lip. A little harder than usual.

"Yeah, sure," Isa unbuttoned your pants with one hand and reached inside your boxers to grab your cock. "On top of that, you were inside that slut with the pretty smile before me."

"You're a slut with a pretty smile too," you smiled, and lifted her dress to give both of her buttocks a spank with each hand. Isa groaned.

"But I haven't felt your cock fill my pussy tonight," Isa moaned. "My pretty, warm, wet pussy."

"God, we're going home," you decided immediately. "Go wake up the girls. I'll go get Shuhua and Rei."

"Gladly, daddy."

Isa pulled away and waited for you to rebutton your pants before following you out. She took the opposite door right outside, while you walked out to the living room and then the yard. Shuhua and Rei were still with Hanni, singing How Do You Sleep by Sam Smith because it was apparently that time of night.

You arrived, grabbing Shuhua and Rei by their waists, pulling them against you.

"We're leaving."

"Uh? So soon?" Shuhua asked, as if it weren't already 3:40 in the morning. "Okay."

"It's about time," Rei said, reaching over to grab Hanni's hand. "What are you going to do, unnie?"

Hanni had Minji by the arm, doing her best to keep her from falling to the floor. She looked exhausted, as confirmed by her sigh.

"We'll leave too. Without you, we have nothing else to do here," Hanni said, pulling her phone out of her handbag. "I'll call for someone to come get us."

"I'd take you myself, but I already have five people," you said, grimacing.

"Nah, don't worry," Hanni said, scrolling through her phone. She gestured toward the house. "Let's get going."

"Aight."

The five of you entered the house and then headed outside. Going to the gate, you ran into Isa, along with a newly awakened Yoon and Seeun. When they saw you, they came out and waited for you outside.

"Ready to go?" you asked them, already standing on the sidewalk to cross the street. They nodded. "Aight, let's go."

They all said goodbye to Hanni and started crossing the street. You purposefully stayed back for a moment.

"Hey, it was fun hanging out with you tonight," you said back to Hanni in English, hands in your jacket pockets.

Hanni turned to look at you and curved her lips into a small smile.

"Yeah, same to you," she said. "Even though you've been gone for two hours."

"You're exaggerating."

"I counted them."

"And why did you count them? Eager to see me?"

Hanni opened her mouth to say something and looked away. The night made it almost imperceptible, but you swore her cheeks had colored.

"Whatever, dude," she finally said, looking into your eyes with her head tilted subtly down, making you melt at how cute her gaze was. "Go, Alcoholics Anonymous is calling you."

You smiled without taking your eyes off her, in case she'd stop looking at you so cutely.

"Can I text you tomorrow?"

"You have my number. If you can, you can."

"Is that a yes?"

"Figure it out, dude. I don't have all the answers."

"And coming to my place to play Mario Kart?"

Hanni couldn't help but laugh, avoiding your gaze.

"Wow," she looked up at the sky for a second and then back at you. "That was smooth. I'm in."

We Are The Champions played in your head at full volume. You wanted to do three flips and seven backflips, but on the outside you just showed the same smile.

"When?" you asked.

"Next weekend?"

"Cool!"

"See you later then, Mr. Pepperoni."

You chuckled and started to cross the street.

"Bye, Phampy."

"Phampy?" Hanni giggled.

"I have no idea. It just came to me."

That was the last thing you said to her before getting into your car, grinning from ear to ear.

"Huh?" Isa raised both eyebrows, sitting in the passenger seat. "And why are you smiling like that?"

"Hanni's a good joker," you replied, starting the car. Shuhua and Rei were making a racket in the backseat. Seeun and Yoon already looked exhausted from having to put up with them.

"Yeah, sure she is. Can I put on some music?"

"Whatever."

You started the car and pulled out of your parking spot to drive up the hill, make a U-turn, and drive out of the neighborhood.

The headache that caused you the whole way back with all the noise those three were making. The three of them had agreed to have a mini party and pick possibly the most unbearable songs for that time of night, making you sing along in the process since they knew perfectly well that you knew them.

Yoon and Seeun were already desperate because they just wanted to get to sleep, so when you dropped them off at their dorm, they didn't even say goodbye and just got out of the car. After that, you drove straight to your place, an apartment complex five minutes away.

When you arrived, you parked your car in the underground parking lot and walked with the girls to your building and got into the elevator. You thought they'd wait until they entered your apartment to get a little wild, but not even five seconds passed before they pulled you toward the back wall of the elevator and joined their lips again in another triple kiss, this time sloppier and hotter without the scrutiny of other people.

"My god, you're really horny, aren't you?" you asked, watching the three of them grope each other. Shuhua was massaging Rei's tits. Rei was groping Isa's ass. And Isa was groping Shuhua's ass and running her hands over her lower torso. You tried to join in and grab a bit of the Taiwanese girl's ass, but she slapped your hand away.

"Aniya," Shuhua told you, side-eying you. "You're not going to touch me until I say so. None of the three of us."

"You've got to be kidding."

"That's what you get for fucking another girl before us and lying on top of that," Isa said. Seconds later, the elevator doors opened, and they separated.

Isa, having been there before, took the lead to guide the girls down the hallway. You followed behind, grumbling to yourself. You didn't regret what you'd done, but if you'd known the consequences, you would have thought about it a little more before making a decision. What tormented you the most was the fact that you knew they didn't mind leaving you inactive for as long as they wanted. There was enough sexual attraction between the three of them that they didn't have to rely on a cock for fun, and that was a danger.

Arriving in front of your door, they stepped aside for you to open it, and then they moved you aside again to get in before you. You sighed, closing the door behind you as the girls went straight to your room. When you reached them, they were already undressing each other. Shuhua was untying the straps holding Rei's dress around her neck, while Isa was behind Shuhua, doing the same with the straps of her blouse on her back.

"You're going to undress and sit over there," Isa told you, pointing to a small velvet single sofa next to the desk where your vinyl record player sat. "Get comfortable, daddy."

Reluctantly, you took off your jacket and threw it on the floor. As you walked to the sofa, you also took off your belt, followed by your shoes, your pants, your sweater, and finally your boxers. By the time you sat down and looked at them again, Rei's dress was already on the floor, as was Shuhua's blouse. But you couldn't get a decent look since Isa was blocking your view.

Surely knowing this, Isa slipped the straps of her dress off her shoulders and pulled it down her entire body until it rested around her ankles. You couldn't get a good look at either Shuhua or Rei, but at least you could see Isa's beautiful ass and her lovely back as she groped Shuhua and kissed her neck.

Isa was quick to also get rid of Shuhua's pants, and as she did, she sat on the edge of the bed and pulled Shuhua onto her lap, wrapping her arms around her waist and slipping a hand inside her panties to touch her pussy. Your view was now clearer, allowing you to see the pretty pair of... pierced tits? My god, they were.

Rei's beautiful, curvy body was also on full display before your eyes. Her tits looked delicious under her tight sports bra, as did her firm, round ass and lickable tummy. She climbed onto the bed and went behind Isa, kneeling down, cupping her face and kissing her.

Shuhua moaned softly at Isa's touch, as Isa slid a hand from her waist to one of her breasts to play with it. She then locked eyes with you, looking down for a moment at your erect, throbbing cock as you slowly touched yourself. The way she licked her lips indicated she needed you, but you knew she would be faithful to her dignity first.

Rei unclasped Isa's bra and then slipped her own over her head. Her breasts made your mouth water, as they were just as pretty as you'd imagined and even slightly bigger than they looked over her dress. She pressed them against Isa's back. And slid her hands down the front of her body to pinch her nipples.

Tired of not being able to see anything, Shuhua got off Isa's lap and, like Rei, climbed onto the bed, to be the first to remove her panties and lie down with her head resting on one of the pillows. Once again, your vision was limited, and with a huff, you got up and dragged the couch to the bottom edge of the bed. Now you had a perfect view of everything, including Shuhua's wet pussy as she spread her legs.

Rei noticed Shuhua and lay down beside her. She kissed her, placing a hand between her breasts and sliding it between her legs to touch her pussy. Shuhua wrapped her arms around her neck, moaning against her lips. Isa knew you were watching from the front, so she knelt between the other two to bend forward and pull down her panties so you could salivate over her bare ass and pretty pussy.

Rei's panties were the next to join the small pile that formed in the corner of the bed. Isa lay down behind her, and just like she did to Shuhua, she began to touch her pussy with gentle circles that made Rei moan against Shuhua's lips. Moving there was the best thing you could have done, as you had a perfect view of each pussy. The only thing missing was you there, eating one of the three of them. But you were grounded like a dog in the yard.

Shuhua's moans surfaced as Rei stopped kissing her and focused on bringing her tits to her mouth while she inserted two fingers inside her. She placed a hand on Rei's head and gently stroked her hair, arching her back slightly. Isa knelt down and hooked one of Rei's legs behind her knee to lift her up, lean forward, and plant her mouth on Rei's pussy. Again, you felt like someone had to be pleasuring Isa too, and that someone had to be you. Yet you held back, gritting your teeth as you continued to slowly masturbate.

"Enjoying the view, you lying bastard?" Shuhua asked, being slowly fingered by Rei. "You could be here eating my pussy if you'd used your head to think instead of your cock."

Damn demon. You held back from opening your mouth. You'd take it out on her when the time was right.

Rei began to move her wrist faster when Isa made her moan. She was eating her pussy like it was an expensive dish, one hand tucked under her own body to finger her own pussy since no one else was doing it. The biggest beneficiary of this was Shuhua. Rei's fingers moved in and out faster each time, the palm of the Japanese woman's hand colliding with her pussy. Shuhua's tits were not left unattended, as Rei sucked and licked them even between moans.

"Yeah unnie, keep going, yeah! Just like that!" Shuhua whimpered, one hand on the breast Rei wasn't holding in her mouth and the other on the back of her head. "Mmmgh!"

Shuhua came and her back arched. Her hips bucked, and her pale thighs shook hypnotically. Rei kissed her, and Shuhua grabbed her face to make their lips dance sloppily together. Rei pulled her fingers out of her, and, freshly soaked, brought them to Isa for her to suck.

"God, I've already felt sorry for you," Shuhua said, watching you almost drool as you touched yourself. "I'll be a little lenient with you."

While Isa and Rei remained wrapped in each other's arms, kissing and rubbing each other, Shuhua got up from the bed and walked over to you. She knelt between your legs and placed her hands on your thighs, rubbing them slowly, her eyes on yours and then on your cock.

"You've got a whole piece of meat down here, huh?" Shuhua asked, and made a gesture of kissing your cock, but only ended up exhaling hot breath. She then replaced your hand with her own, moving it at the same speed. "I'd suck you off, but that would be giving you a small victory."

"Don't you think you've gone too far already?" you gasped, with a glimmer of hope. "I get it. I'm sorry."

Shuhua chuckled, and lifted her body to rub the tip of your cock against her pierced nipple. The sensation sent shivers down your spine and made you moan.

"What? Are you going to cry?" Shuhua mocked, moving her body up and down to rub her entire breast against your shaft. "Your actions have consequences. You should know that."

You groaned and let your head fall back. You were about to go crazy.

"I swear to God, I'll go to sleep in the living room if you keep this up."

"Oh, please, don't be such a crybaby." Shuhua sat back on her heels and spat on the hand on your cock before giving you a slick handjob. "You just have to be a good boy and cum once for me. After that, I'll take off your collar."

"I never approved that," Isa said from the bed. Looking up, you saw her on top of Rei in a 69 position. Rei was groping her ass while she ate her out, and you immediately felt envious.

"Well, you'll have to, because I came here to be fucked until I pass out. Not to see him on the verge of tears cause he’s a whiny bitch."

Shuhua teased you again, pretending to take you in her mouth, but in the end, she smiled and stood up to walk around the couch and stand behind you. She pressed her tits against your back, and you shuddered at the cold feeling of her piercings against your skin. Her left arm wrapped around your upper chest, while her right hand returned to your cock to stroke it.

Shuhua leaned closer to your ear.

"Mmm, you'd like to be there with them, wouldn't you?" she asked, pressing herself against you. Her hand moved faster, and she twisted her wrist with each pump. "Maybe fucking Chaeyoungie's face... or sucking Rei-chan's tits."

You moaned, using all your willpower to keep your hands still on the armrests of the couch. On the bed, Isa and Rei ate each other out. Rei had Isa's head trapped between her thighs, and Isa was grinding her ass against Rei's face. Both of them muffled moans against each other's flesh.

"Maybe I could even be jumping on your cock right now," Shuhua giggled, and buried her face in your neck to pepper it with kisses. Her hot breath made you gasp. "My warm pussy needs it as much as you do at this point."

Shuhua's wrist moved faster, her hand sliding up and down your slick shaft with ease. Isa and Rei's moans grew louder, and after a couple of seconds they both came all over each other's mouths. Your cock throbbed as you watched them both writhe in pleasure.

Like a snowball rolling down a hill, you felt your orgasm building rapidly, with that particular tingle concentrating in your lower abdomen and traveling down to your shaft. Your arms tensed, as did your legs. Shuhua must have noticed, because she started moving her wrist so fast it made you catch your breath.

"Come on, cum, daddy..." Shuhua whispered, and that was the final straw for you.

Spurts of cum shot out of your cock, falling in thick drops and staining Shuhua's hand on their way to your base. Shuhua continued moving her hand with the same frenzy, making you moan and writhe desperately as you came. She didn't slow down until seconds later, when only thin drops fell onto her hand.

"My god, you came a lot considering you fucked another bitch a few hours ago," Shuhua said amusedly. She let go of your cock and brought her cum-stained hand to her mouth. "Mmm. Rei-chan! Why don't you come clean up? You kept saying how crazy you were to suck his cock."

Rei, recently orgasmed, pushed Isa off her and, revitalized, got out of bed to quickly go between your legs. She looked at you with those sexy, sleepy eyes, and with her hands on your thighs, the first thing she did was lick the back of your cock from base to tip, collecting all your cum. She did the same with every wet corner of your skin. And as she swallowed every drop, she took your cock and brought it into her mouth.

"Oh god, fucking finally," you gasped, as Rei's full lips moved up and down your shaft, taking almost all of it. She did it gently, knowing you were still sensitive.

Shuhua took your chin and pulled your head back to finally kiss you, after hours and hours of wanting to. The reality exceeded your expectations, as the taste and texture of her lips instantly captivated you. The kiss wasn't subtle; your heads moved from side to side in a fierce exchange of saliva that felt liberating. You reached back and cupped one of her breasts, soft to the touch of your fingers and cold when you played with her nipple. She, in turn, caressed your chest with her hands, rubbing slow circles on your pecs.

Your cock remained hard the entire time inside Rei's mouth, as she made sure to keep it that way with her lethal lips and sensual pumps of her head. She slurped on every inch of your shaft, without a hint of a gag reflex to interrupt her. You weren't watching her, but the noise alone made you completely wild.

"Since you were weak and gave in to him, I want some too," you heard Isa say. The next thing you knew, another pair of lips had welcomed you inside, and you knew they were Chaeyoungie's.

Isa and Rei were now taking turns sucking your cock, each at her own pace and in different ways of driving you crazy. Isa knew what you liked better than Rei did. But it was clear that Rei, even without that knowledge, knew exactly what she was doing and why. She was an expert. Skilled in the use of those perfect lips.

While those two were having fun, Shuhua stood on the side of the chair and climbed over one of the bracers to straddle your abdomen, both thighs firmly positioned at the sides of your waist. You immediately wrapped your arms around her body and brought one of her tits to your mouth. For some, the piercing would have been a nuisance, but for you, it was just one more reason to eat those tits with the hunger they deserved. You didn't forget her ass, of course. You brought both hands to her buttocks to squeeze them, and lowered one of them to touch her pussy. Shuhua moaned at your touch, her arms around your head so you wouldn't move away from her tits.

"Don't even think about him fucking you first," Isa said. "That moron and I have something going on."

There was a moment of silence in which the only sounds you could hear were Rei sucking your cock, Shuhua moaning, and your kisses on her tits. Suddenly, you heard Isa from the bed:

"Daddyyy..." Isa called to you. Peeking under Shuhua's arm, you saw her on her hands and knees in the center of the bed, looking over her shoulder at you. She slowly wiggled her ass from side to side.

You looked into Shuhua's eyes, and she first ran her tongue over your lips before grabbing your face and kissing you again. Only then did she lift herself off your abdomen with a dangerous maneuver over the armband, nearly causing her to fall. She just laughed about it, but it nearly gave you a heart attack.

Rei was still in a small trance over your cock. She didn't seem to notice you wanting to get up, so you gently grabbed her face and made her look at you. You leaned forward.

"Don't worry, pretty," you told her. "You'll be next. Shuhua will be the last because I know it was her idea to punish me."

"HUH?!" Shuhua said, one knee on the bed, about to climb in. "That's not...!"

"Yes, it is, don't believe her," Rei said, her hand slowly stroking your cock. "She and Chaeyoungie convinced me."

"I know they did."

"Snitch!" Shuhua accused her.

You stood up and held Rei's hands to help her stand up as well. She went with Shuhua to join Isa on the bed.

Before joining them, you took a short detour to the desk on the left side of the room. On your bookshelf, you searched through the dozens of vinyl records you had until you found one you felt would be good for the occasion: Love Deluxe by Sade. You carefully took out the vinyl and opened your turntable to gently place it. Then, once you'd put down the stylus, pressed play, and turned up the volume, you went with the girls to the bed.

Purely instinctively, the first thing you did when you got into bed was kneel behind Isa and bend forward, squeezing her buttocks and taking a taste of her pussy that made her moan. For a few seconds, you kissed and licked every corner between her buttocks. Then, you stood up to position yourself behind her, making her spread her knees sideways, and holding her ass up to slowly slide your cock inside her.

"Mmm, fuck daddy…" Isa moaned, your cock disappearing inch by inch between her buttocks. "I wanted this so fucking bad."

Shuhua, to her right, grabbed her face for a kiss. Rei, to her left, was lying on her side with her legs tucked up. She reached up and squeezed Isa's buttock, then spanked her, making her flesh jiggle. Isa rested part of her chest on Shuhua's, pressing their tits together and giving Rei a better angle to grope her ass while you started moving.

Few things made your mind go as crazy as Isa's ass did during doggystyle. Normally, it didn't seem like anything too special, but in that position, anyone could see how truly delicious that piece of meat looked, especially when it jiggled with every thrust you gave.

Isa moaned against Shuhua's lips and pinched her nipples while you pounded her pussy faster and harder. Rei watched with her lips parted, horniness oozing from her pores. From your position, you could see that her pussy was soaked, and that she was curling her toes eagerly, so you lowered your left hand from Isa's waist and brought it to her pussy to touch it. Rei moaned and locked eyes with you as you penetrated her with your fingers.

The sound of Isa's buttocks hitting your pelvis rose and mingled with the music. You added a sharp, stinging spank to the cacophony. Isa whimpered and pulled away from Shuhua's lips to watch over her shoulder as you fucked her. Naturally, whenever she looked at you like that, you were forced to grab a handful of her hair and hold on to it. And she absolutely loved that.

Rei's adorable moans also grew louder as you fingered her wet pussy. She'd stopped groping Isa's ass to focus on herself, grabbing her own breasts and touching her clit. Her head fell onto the pillow as she watched Isa, eager to be fucked like that sooner rather than later.

Luckily for her, after a few seconds Isa stifled a moan and tensed her body as her orgasm exploded. You let go of her hair, and her face fell sideways against the mattress as she pressed her hips toward you, preventing you from moving further as the orgasm was hitting her hard. Seconds later, you pulled out of her.

Rei, knowing she was next, opened her legs wide for you. You knelt in front of her and leaned forward to press your bodies together and kiss her. She moaned against your lips and wrapped her arms around your neck. Her legs caught you as well, and she raised her hips to grind against your cock.

Before giving her the satisfaction she needed, you wanted to indulge yourself first. From her lips, you moved straight to that pair of beautiful Japanese tits, taking each one into your mouth. Your tongue swirled around her nipples, and you sucked them gently as well. Rei tangled her fingers in strands of your hair in the process. And her moans were like music to your ears.

As you filled her tits with your saliva, you grabbed your cock and pressed it against her pussy. Rei gripped your neck, her fingers tightly wrapped around it as your cock slid deep into her tight walls.

"Oh, kimochi..." Rei moaned, looking into your eyes as you filled every corner of her pussy with throbbing flesh.

Shuhua lay down beside you and pulled you in for a kiss. You began to move your hips back and forth, slowly at first so Rei could get used to the sensation. Her pussy was stupidly tight, making you moan against Shuhua's lips. As the seconds passed, you picked up the rhythm, both with your hips and with your wrist, as you were also rubbing Shuhua's clit.

You opened your eyes for a moment and saw Isa lying on her side, one leg tucked in and the other stretched out. One hand was behind her back and between her buttocks, and she was slowly fingering herself with it. Her lustful gaze urged you to go faster. Harder. To be the animal you always were with her.

You broke the kiss with Shuhua and straightened your back, grabbing Rei's thighs and pressing them back. You instantly went faster. Rei's tits now bounced with each thrust; Shuhua took the right one in her mouth, and you squeezed the left.

"Hmm, that feels so good daddy," Rei moaned, her hands spread wide on the sides of her head. She had no intention of moving. A very characteristic attitude of a submissive girl who just wanted to be dominated. "Mmmgh! Sugoi!"

Shuhua was also lying on her side, and you took advantage of the fact that her entire buttock was exposed to give her a hard spank that reverberated through the room. She squealed and glared at you.

"You better do that and more when you're fucking me," Shuhua hissed. "I won't accept anything less."

Isa then hugged Shuhua from behind and lowered her hand to the Taiwanese girl's pussy while kissing her neck and shoulders Shuhua turned around and wrapped her arms around her. They both tangled their thighs together and began rubbing each other, their lips pressed together in a sloppy, messy kiss.

With Rei now your main focus again, you grabbed her legs and brought them together, resting each of her heels on your shoulders. Then you leaned forward, placed your hands on the mattress, and pressed Rei's thighs against her torso with your chest. Now you were thrusting up and down. Not exactly fast, but hard and deep, making the bed shake. Rei covered her mouth and squeezed her eyes shut, the last thing she did before arching her back and cumming all over your cock.

"Mmmgh my god!" Rei squealed. When she opened her eyes, they were watering. She took her hand off her mouth as she writhed beneath you. "You're very good at that, daddy... but I need you to fuck my ass."

"Your ass?" You raised an eyebrow, panting.

"Y-yeah!" she nodded, still a bit shaky. "When you spanked me earlier I went so crazy. I think I even wet my panties at the thought of you fucking my ass."

You released her legs and hovered over her, placing kisses on the corner of her lips.

"I promise to pamper you as much as you want," you murmured. "But if I do it right now, Shuhua will kill me."

"But do you have lube?" Rei asked.

"Uh... I think so. Do you want to look for it while I take care of Shuhua?"

"Where is it?"

"On the same desk where the record player is. In one of the drawers."

Rei nodded, and you moved off her to lie behind Shuhua, who groped every corner of Isa's body while being fingered by her. She didn't notice your presence until you pressed your chest against her back. In response, she pushed her hips back and rubbed your cock between her buttocks. You immediately took your shaft in your hand, guiding it between them and sliding it into her pussy.

"Mmm, you finally deigned to do it, damn it," Shuhua murmured after a small moan. She brought her right hand to your neck to hold on to it. She had Isa draped over her left arm, which she wrapped around her. Your cock reached the bottom of her pussy a couple of seconds later. You both moaned. "Fuck. It feels so good."

And it did. Shuhua's pussy was warm and silky. It caressed your cock from all sides with those soft walls, making you stay still just to prolong that first exquisite sensation a little longer. You started to move when Shuhua turned her head to kiss you, one hand on her waist.

Shuhua lifted one thigh and rested it on Isa's body, who continued rubbing circles around her clit. Isa lowered her body just a little to lick and suck on Shuhua's tits, moaning against them. She also moved her hand a little further between your legs and gently grabbed your balls to squeeze them.

"You remember what I told you, right?" Shuhua asked against your lips. "Go hard, idiot. Fuck me hard. Take my breath away. Use me."

"My god girl, stop being such an impatient whore," you growled.

Rei joined you again on the bed, on the side where Isa was. The small bottle of lube was in her hand. She had Haewon to thank for that. Haewon had forced you to buy some for your first sexual encounter, which, in her words, was just a quality test to see how well Sully ate.

Rei set the bottle aside and lay down next to Isa, her face next to her ass and her feet next to her head. She spread her buttocks with her hands, and without warning, she started eating her again. Isa moaned and looked over her shoulder, unable to move in that position but not bothered by it.

You, meanwhile, rose to kneel in front of Shuhua. Fulfilling her request, you went harder. Shuhua's body was absolutely wonderful, a deliciously pale and smooth work of art that enjoyed just the right amount of flesh in every possible corner. Just holding her waist while fucking that beautiful, warm pussy felt like having your hand on a cloud. And not just her waist. Her breasts also felt amazing under your hand, especially her buttock when you squeezed it beneath your fingers.

"You call that going hard?" Shuhua moaned. She had one hand clamped around your left wrist. The other was crumpling the pillow beneath her head. "D-don't make me fucking laugh."

Your hand moved from her breast to her neck, fingers now tightly wrapped around it. Your squeeze made Shuhua moan, and she took her hand off the pillow to now hold onto that wrist. Her cheeks colored almost instantly, and her pussy clenched around your cock. That was what she wanted, you could tell from her eyes. But you had the feeling she needed more.

[snoopyracing]

forever and always // ln4

part two to champagne coast

pairing: lando norris X reader

word count: 10k

warnings: cursing and alcohol use

includes: 100% pure fluff

summary: life with lando after the italy trip or lando and you getting your happily ever after

masterlist

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Life at the moment couldn’t be greater for you. You’d just gone on the most amazing week-long trip to Italy and in the process managed to upgrade your best friend into your boyfriend. You couldn’t truly ask for more, except for the screaming baby on the plane to give it a rest. Even in first class the baby’s incessant cries could be heard and you wanted to slap yourself for not remembering to pack your headphones into your carry-on. 

You glance over at your boyfriend who’s sat in the spacious seat next to you. “We should have just flown private like you wanted.” You were trying to not have Lando spend any more unnecessary money on you then needed, lord knows how much he spent on you this past week. You’d told yourself that you could survive a commercial flight, it was only three hours back to London. You do it for work and when you visit Lando in Monaco, it shouldn’t be that big of a deal. Well, at least that’s what you thought a couple hours ago. 

“What I wanted was to stay in Italy for another week.” His large hand finds yours and your fingers intertwine. “But I know my working girl has responsibilities and deadlines to meet and money to make and all that kind of stuff.” He lifts your intertwined hands up to his lips and presses a chaste kiss to the back of your hand, the simple gesture sending an eruption of butterflies through your stomach. 

“Yeah well someone’s got to bring home the bacon in this relationship.” You joke, like Lando wasn’t bringing home a modest 30 million a year. 

“Well, racing isn’t gonna last forever, so I am gonna eventually need you to be my sugar mommy.” 

“You’d like that wouldn’t you?” Your teasing causes a pink tint to spread across the apples of Lando’s cheeks and it makes you giggle at how easily you can get him riled up. 

He slides down in his seat, trying to make himself seem smaller, all while still anchoring himself to you by his hand. “Nothing wrong with liking to be taken care of.” Lando has never not been vocal (at least with you) about how he in all honesty likes to be babied. 

Sure, he loves taking care of you, but sometimes he just wants the woman he loves (you) to take care of him. Even before you two got together you were the person who would look after him after a particular shit race weekend and when he would visit you back in London he always seemed to just be able to let his walls down and be vulnerable with you. 

“I like that you need me.” You state, which has Lando feeling even more warm and gushy inside. 

“Never not gonna need you. You know that right? You’re stuck with me.” And Lando means every word that slips out of his mouth. He doesn’t know what he’d do without you in his life. For so many years you were his everything and now that he fully has every part of you he can’t imagine letting you go.

Your eyes soften at the man you love. There isn’t anyone else you’d rather endure this plane ride from hell with. Yet, with all the love you have for him, you can’t help but poke fun at him. “Unfortunately.” You say with a cheesy grin on your face. 

“You love me.” Lando pushes back. 

“Unfor-“ 

Lando interrupts you before you can push his buttons even more. “Wait, do you hear that?” 

Your eyebrows furrowed together in confusion, your head glancing around the cabin to try and figure out what he’s talking about. “Hear what?” 

“Exactly.” 

And that’s when you realize that there is nothing to hear, because the baby had stopped crying. You think you’d forgotten what quiet was for a moment and to finally have it back was pure bliss. Though the little slice of silence lasts for a few short moments because as the plane begins its descent the change in air pressure has the baby crying once more. “Well, at least we know we are almost home!” You say trying to be positive. 

“We could have still been in Italy.” Lando groans. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Adjusting to life back in London was a little harder than you thought it was going to be. It helped that you had Lando with you this week, but you wished so badly to be back in Italy. The Thames couldn’t hold a candle to the Mediterranean Sea and you could only dream that you would wake up to the calming lull of the waves and not construction and sirens. And while you were slowly adjusting it seemed like Lando wasn’t at all.

When Lando was back in London for work he usually just stayed with you or Max, so Lando staying at your place wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, but him not letting Max or his family know that he was back home was out of the ordinary. After the third day of Lando being a hermit in your apartment all day while you were at work you finally confronted him about it. 

“Lan, I’m home!” You called out as you kicked off the world's most uncomfortable heels, your feet silently thanking you as they felt the cool flooring beneath them. 

“Kitchen!” You hear him holler back and by the smoke free air you’d have to conclude that he wasn’t trying to cook you dinner. Instead you find him standing at the counter in the middle of making himself a cup of tea. Your hands sneak around his waist, resting your head on his muscular back. A content sigh escapes past his mouth and you feel his free hand settle on your arm. 

“Hi baby. How was work?” 

“Very long and tiring. I’m glad to be home.” You reply before placing a kiss on his shoulder. 

Lando says nothing as he moves to grab your arm, leading you towards the couch. And by some miracle he sets his cup of tea down on the coffee table spill free while he pulls you into his side as you two plop down. “Missed you while you were gone.” His words are slightly mumbled as he plants a kiss onto the top of your head. 

Moments later his phone buzzes and your eyes can’t help but glance at the screen as he pulls it out of his sweatpants pocket. You barely see the contact name of your shared friend across the screen before he’s locking his phone and sliding it back into his pocket. 

“Lando.” His fingers ghost up and down your arm as he hums in response. “Why have you been ignoring Max?” You weren’t trying to pry into his business, but what you were saying was true. You’d seen the unread texts and for Lando to ignore his best friend, especially when he was back in England, was very out of character for him. 

His movements halted and you can hear the gears in his pretty little head turning. “I’m not ignoring him.” 

You shift on the couch so you can properly look at him. “Lando. You’ve been holed up in my apartment ever since we got back. What’s going on? You ignore Max’s texts to make plans. I see the missed calls from your parents. Are you second guessing things or do you not want people to know about us?” 

Lando’s eyes nearly bulge out his head at your suggestions and he’s reaching out for your hands faster than lightning. “Oh god no. God. No no no. Never in a million years would I not want to be with you.” 

“Then what is going on?” Your eyes soften at the man you love as you try to understand what’s going on in his head. 

“It’s quite selfish of me.” He finally admits with his head hung low while you rub your thumb across his knuckles, encouraging him to continue. “I know this sounds ridiculous, but I don’t want to have to share you with anyone quite yet. You going to work I can handle, but god we haven’t even gotten to really spend time together as a couple. Summer break is going to be over very soon and then that’s a whole nother beast we have to figure out and I know I’m very in my head about all of this but I just want you to myself for as long as I can. I don’t want other people’s opinions about you or our relationship to be all over the internet either. God why am I so in my head?” . 

Your heart swells at Lando’s words and while you understand how he feels, you know you’ve got to talk some sense into him as well. “I get it. We’ve been living in our own bubble this past week and now it’s even better that we’re together. It’s like the real world and reality are out to get us, but baby that’s life. And really I don’t give a fuck what anyone on the internet says about me or us because they’ve been saying stuff for years. It’s not anything new– I know what’s real between us and that’s all that matters to me and it should to you also.” 

You give his hands a reassuring squeeze, trying to convey just how serious you were about all of this. 

“Plus, I’m not worried one bit about once you start racing again, sure I’ll miss you when I can’t come with you, but we’ll make it work. What I am worried about though is you isolating yourself. I love that you love spending time with me, but Lan you gotta not let the anxiety of life get into your way. Even with this crazy life that you live you’re lucky enough to have people who care deeply about you and the rare occasion that you aren’t in England for more than a day or work and you chose to ignore them is not good for you. So take your phone out and tell Max that we’ll be over at his place Friday.” 

Lando sighs as he internalizes your words. Everything you had said was right. You always know how to get into his head and talk him off his anxiety induced edge. He can’t recall how many times you’d been there for him during a bad race weekend— granted this was nothing like that, but nonetheless he knows he can always confide in you and that you’ll always be there with love and the right words to say. 

And like the obedient boyfriend he is– he slips his phone out of his pocket and quickly sends Max a text. “Why not Saturday? Don’t you work Friday?” He asks. 

You shrug your shoulders at him like it was no big deal. “I got Friday off and we have other plans for Saturday.” 

“With your friends?” 

“No. We are having dinner with your family. I’ve been texting your Mom occasionally ever since we got back. Someone had to let her know her son was still alive.” 

Lando’s cheeks turn red in shame, he’s a known certified Momma’s boy and he knows his Mother was probably worried sick about him these past couple days. “I’ve always said she likes you more than me.” 

“Yeah well I actually respond to her messages.” You tease as you tuck yourself into Lando’s side, the couch pulling you in deeper. 

Silence fills the room for a few moments and it’s tranquil– golden hour cascading through your floor to ceiling windows as the two of you cuddle up on the couch, the feeling of Lando’s fingers running up and down your back as you listen to his steady heartbeat. 

“Thank you.” Lando is the one to break the silence, his voice soft and meaningful. You hum in response, waiting for him to continue. “Thanks for getting me out of my head. You’re my person, you know that? Don’t know what I’d do without you.” 

The sun filtering into the room makes the golden brown flecks in his eyes pop even more and you can’t believe that this beautiful and caring man that you’ve had in your life for so long is now actually yours and that maybe if you would have opened your eyes sooner you could have had him this way for even longer. 

“I love you.” 

Lando’s face erupts into a smile and you can’t help but lean into his hand as it moves to cup your face. 

“I love you too.” 

He leans in for a kiss and when your lips meet you swear it’s like you're kissing him for the first time again. There’s something so enthralling and intoxicating about kissing Lando and you pray it’s something you never grow tired of. 

“Can you really blame me though, for wanting to stay locked away with my sexy, stunning, intelligent, caring, and breathtaking girlfriend?” Lando states as you two resume your prior positions on the couch, soaking in this serene evening together. 

“Wow, that's a lot of adjectives.” You reply as a slight giggle escapes from you. 

“I can name some more if you’d like.” 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Friday comes in the blink of an eye and before you know it you’re standing next to Lando as he knocks on the door to Max’s apartment. The solid white door swings open and there stands Max with a mischievous look on his face. 

“Thought you two had fucked off and decided to move to Italy.” 

“It’s still a possibility.” Lando states as he walks in behind you. 

“Don’t be bitter because you weren’t invited Fewtrell.” You chime in. 

The three of you settle in the living room and it reminds you of old times before Lando moved to Monaco. When you’d all be gathered at someone’s place and life seemed simpler. Things have changed drastically since then, but you know you’ll always have these two annoying guys in your life. 

“I’m not bitter. I’ve third wheeled enough in our friendship to know when I’m not wanted.” Max is chomping at the bit to know what went down on your trip and if nothing had he thinks his two best friends may have one collective brain cell that they share between them. “Soooo. How was Italy? Romantic?” 

Your eyes quickly dart over to Lando who’s seated in one of the chairs slightly to your left, while Max is sitting on the couch opposite of the one you’re residing on. Max was clearly digging for information and according to someone else in your friend group, Max had a large amount of money that he had bet on the two of you coming back from Italy and being together. So Lando and you had decided to make Max work for his prize– nothing like a little lying and mental warfare while spending time with friends right? You see that mischievous look in Lando’s eyes and then he open’s that pretty little mouth of his. 

“Did you know pizza was apparently invented in Naples?” 

Max furrows his eyebrows at Lando, surprised at the fact that was what came out of his mouth. “I didn’t.” 

“Yeah. Think we ate our body weight in pizza this past week. Gonna have to hit the training hard before the season starts back up.” Lando is acting too nonchalant about the trip and you can tell Max is listening for any little slip up. 

“Hmm is that so?” Max glances over in your direction and you know your next in line for his interrogation. “Y/N.” 

“Max.” 

“How was Italy?” 

“It was great. We ate lots of good food, went sightseeing, went to the beach, and relaxed. Everything you’d do on a trip to Italy.” 

Max still isn’t satisfied with anyone’s answer. To him there was just no way that something didn’t happen between you two on that trip and he was going to get the truth out even if it killed him. “Nothing exciting happened?” 

You shrug your shoulders as you glance over at Lando– wanting him to take the reins on this one. You can see the gears turning in his head all the while Max is getting antsier by the second waiting for someone to respond. 

“Well, Y/N did meet a guy.” 

There’s a shocked look on both Max’s face and yours at Lando’s words. Even with your little plan in place you didn’t think Lando was going to say that or honestly bring up that night ever again, but he did and he’s thrown Max for a loop at the same time. 

“You met a guy?” Max asks you. He isn’t sure if he heard Lando right and he’s really starting to wonder how this trip could have gone this horribly wrong. 

“Yeah. We went out to a bar one night and I started talking to this guy. He was really nice and happened to be from London. He’s my most recent follow on insta if you want to see what he’s like. His name is Harry.” You hadn’t bothered to unfollow him and at this moment you guess it was a good thing you hadn’t. 

Max thinks the world is ending right here in his apartment. How could his best friends be so fucking stupid? How could they go on a trip by themselves and not see how utterly in love they were with each other? 

He pulls up your instagram and finds the guy's account– sure he’s attractive, but there’s never going to be the connection there that Lando and you have. Anyone with two working eyes and a brain could see that and as Max locks his phone and tosses it on the couch cushion beside him he thinks he should make an appointment for both Lando and you to go see an optometrist and neurologist. 

“He seems like a nice lad.” Max had given up. If anything did happen you two were clearly dead set on not giving it up, so he’d try again another day. If Max knew one thing it was that consistency was key and being annoying about his best friends being in love was one thing he will always be consistent about. 

“Yeah I think he’d fit in really well with our friend group.” The look on Max’s face is nothing shy of disgust and out of the corner of your eye you can see Lando fighting back his laughter. You know if you fully look at Lando that you’ll break so you focus on Max who seems to be going through the five stages of grief.

“Right. Well Lando I’ve got a couple things I need to go over with you for Quadrant. Let me go get my laptop real quick.” Max has no issue with changing the subject at this point— the mere idea of that guy joining your friend group was completely out of the question. 

Once Max was out of earshot you immediately turned your attention to Lando. 

“Oh he’s absolutely fuming.” Lando states, his voice slightly higher from trying to suppress his laughter. You can feel the giggles rising from within you and it’s like in school when you aren’t supposed to be laughing, but everything is way more funny because of it. It’s not even that funny of a situation, but Lando and you are nearly beside yourselves over it. 

Before you both completely lose it Max waltzes back into the living room with his laptop in hand. The two of them go over clothing ideas and mockups for sometime while you calm yourself and scroll through your phone. 

“Ok one last thing- the redesign for the website. I’ll send the test link to your phone and see if there’s anything you want to look different on the mobile site.” 

Lando pats his pockets and realizes he forgot his phone in the car. “Shit. Hey baby can you please run to the car and grab my phone.” He’s tossing the car keys to you and you’re catching them before Max can get his brain and his mouth to work fast enough. 

“Sorry! What?!” 

You stand there confused, Lando’s keys jingling in your hands. 

“What’s wrong?” Lando asks. 

Max doesn’t know what to think at the moment. “You just called Y/N baby!“ 

In all honesty Lando didn’t even realize the term of endearment had slipped past his tongue and from the way you reacted it seems you didn’t either. But Lando and you share a knowing look and instead of panicking you decide to just run with the situation.

Lando scoffs, like Max had just suggested the most outrageous thing. “No I didn’t” 

“Yes you did!” Max’s eyes look like they are about ready to bulge out of his head as he speaks. 

“Max he literally didn’t. I think I would know if Lando called me baby.” 

“Stop gaslighting me!” Max knows what he heard, he’s not stupid or crazy like the two of you are making it seem. His eyes dart back and forth between Lando and you, trying to see if he can read your faces, but it’s useless. 

“Alright well I’ll be right back. Lando maybe try to calm Max down.” You state before swiftly leaving Max’s apartment before you break character. 

While you’re gone Max doubles down on his interrogation of Lando, but all Lando does is deny deny deny. His PR training coming in handy at this moment in time. It doesn’t take long for you to get back and when you hand Lando his phone and keys Lando can’t help but fan the fire some more by intentionally letting that little four letter word slide right off his tongue. 

“Thank you baby.” His hand lingers on yours for way longer than need be. The simple skim of his fingers across your skin sends a shiver up your spine. You don’t even get time to respond to Lando before Max’s big mouth is hollering once more. 

“I know I’m not going crazy. I heard that clear as day! Now would you two quit fucking with my head and tell me you finally opened your eyes.” 

There’s an unspoken agreement between Lando and you as you shift your gaze towards him, a shrug of the shoulders and both of you knowing that if you continued to screw with Max he’d probably start to make your lives hell. So, you take a seat on the arm of the chair that Lando is still residing in and like a magnet he’s snaking his arm around your waist–pulling you closer to him. 

Max sits there eyeing the both of you, your current positions tell him nothing, as your closeness and touching was nothing out of the ordinary for you two, but it’s what comes out of Lando’s mouth seconds later that has Max’s eyes as wide as saucers. 

“Better call Ed and let him know he owes you some money.” 

He knows what that means and has clearly been waiting for it to happen, but actually knowing now has him somehow not believing that Lando is telling the truth. “Are you guys fucking with me again or is this for real?” 

“What you want me to physically tell you that Y/N and I are together? That we finally realized that we’ve been in love with each other for an unreasonably long time and made everyone close to us crazy for years?” 

Max sits there dumbfounded, for someone who had been wanting to finally hear this news he just can’t believe it had finally happened. “Well yeah I guess.” He watches his best friends as their hands intertwine and when they look at each other he can see the love radiating between them. 

It had always been there– the love, but there was something different between them now that they’ve become partners like the missing pieces of the puzzle had finally slotted into place. He’s happy that his best friends finally have each other in the way they were meant to and perhaps that he has a little more money in his pocket. “Alright well now can you actually tell me how Italy was?” 

“Well first of all. It wasn’t just you and our other friends that were annoying about us. I think everyone in Italy thought we were a couple before we even realized how we actually felt.” And so you tell Max all about Italy and how special it is to the two of you now. 

“See now why couldn’t you have just told me all of this in the beginning instead of fucking with me?” Max exclaims. 

“Well that’s no fun is it?” Lando rebuttals. “Think about how funny of a story that will be to tell at our wedding one day?” 

You feel your heart start to rabidly race and a heat spread throughout your body at Lando mentioning your wedding. You guys had only really been together for like a week and he’s already casually mentioning marrying you? You weren’t trying to freak out, but what the fuck? Your ears are ringing and it’s like your mind has left your body for a second, but the one thing that brings you back to Earth is the feeling of Lando’s hand squeezing yours. 

When you look down at him and he looks at you with those pretty eyes that seem to be an enigma of colors and that smile of his that could make you feel better even on the shittiest of days you just somehow know that he is the man you’re going to marry. You couldn’t imagine yourself marrying anyone but him. And yes it’s early, way too early to be thinking about marriage in this relationship, but if Lando asked you in a couple months to get married during the Las Vegas GP by some Elvis impersonator in a little church on the strip– you’d say yes in a heartbeat. 

“Well as long as I’m your best man.” Max states. 

“Who else would it be?”  

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The three hour drive from London to Lando’s childhood home the following day is spent trying to figure out how you should announce to his family that you two are together. You’d gone over every scenario, but they either seemed too awkward or just unnecessary. 

“We could just say ‘hey we are in love and in a relationship’ as soon as we walk into the door.” Lando suggests. 

“Do we even really have to tell them?” You counter, knowing you are both totally overthinking this situation. “I mean couldn’t we just let them find out through social media or something?” 

Lando scoffs at your suggestion and he doesn’t even have to speak for you to know that your idea wouldn’t work with his family, especially his Mother. Cisca would never let you both hear the end of her finding out about you two over social media, especially when she’s been not so shy about expressing how she felt about you two. 

The English countryside passes by in a blur as you stare out the car window, you’d given up on figuring out ideas and decided to enjoy the view and the feeling of Land’s hand in yours as you continued the journey. 

“If my family didn’t know that you were coming I could have just called and said I was bringing my girlfriend home for them to meet.” Lando states from the driver's side. Now it’s your turn to scoff, but Lando doesn’t seem to be backing off the idea. “Seriously, we could surprise them.” 

“Lando, that's not a good idea. You’re gonna be in deep shit with your Mom.” 

“I’ll just call and say that you aren’t coming and that there’s someone that I’ve been wanting them to meet for awhile.” He thinks there’s nothing wrong with his plan, but you know he’s gonna get his ass chewed out by his Mother. You love Lando dearly, but he’s also stubborn and sometimes you have to just let him learn his lesson. You can’t even tell him it'll be your funeral before you hear the phone ringing. Cisca picks up rather quickly and you decide to keep quiet in the passenger seat. 

“Hello darling. Are you guys almost here?” Her voice echoes through the luxurious car. 

“Yeah we’ve got a little under an hour left.” 

“I can’t wait to see you and Y/N. Can she hear me? Hello my love! I’ve got a little gift for you when you guys get here. I saw it when I was out shopping the other day and I just thought of you instantly.” 

You want to speak up, already feeling the guilt creep in over this and Lando hasn’t even opened his big mouth to speak yet. You look over at him with pleading eyes, trying to convey just how much he shouldn’t do this, but he’s waving you off and you know this is when Lando has signed his death certificate. 

“About that. So Y/N isn’t coming to dinner. There’s actually someone else that I’ve been wanting you to meet.” 

There’s silence on the other end for some time and anyone would think Cisca had hung up or the line had disconnected, but the call time on the screen keeps going. “Mum are you still there?” Lando finally breaks the deafening silence. 

“Am I on speakerphone?” She replies and you know Lando is about ready to get yelled at. If there was one thing you knew about Lando’s Mother, it was that she didn’t play around when it came to you, especially if it involved Lando. 

“No.” Lando says confidently like her voice wasn’t echoing throughout the car. 

“I know I raised you better than this Lando. Y/N and I have been talking and she literally planned for all of us to have dinner. For you to uninvite her and then decide to bring some random girl in her place is absolutely horrible Lando. She said you guys had a wonderful time on your trip and that you had been staying at her place this week so I don’t know what is going on, but this better be a joke. If it’s not you’d better pray that you don’t lose the one person who cares so deeply about you. I’m so disappointed in you son, but we will talk more when you get here. Oh and hopefully the girl you decided to bring likes my roast dinner. I know it’s Y/N’s favorite meal I make so I was going to surprise her with it. Anyways I’ll see you in a little bit.” 

There’s no goodbye’s exchanged or time for Lando to reply, just Cisca hanging up on her son and then music that was playing before the call filling the air once again. You so badly want to tell Lando that you told him so, but from the blank look on his face and the thousand yard stare he’s got going on, you think perhaps that wouldn’t help the situation any. 

“I should have listened to you.” He finally says, the stupidity of his idea fully sinking in now that his Mother reprimanded him over the phone.   

You shrug your shoulders at him, fully knowing he should have, but not wanting to rub it in his face. “Hopefully once she sees me your wrongs will be forgiven.” 

“God, we can only hope.” 

By the time you pull into the driveway Lando’s already thought of ten different ways his Mother could kill him and when he’s getting out of the car and heading up to the front door he’s thought of eleven. Usually his family would be opening the door to greet them by the time they pulled into the driveway, today was a different story. The decadent smell of his Mom’s cooking hits both of you in the face as soon as you enter the house and you’re so glad you’re actually here and not back at home like you were supposedly meant to be.

“Mum! I’m home!” Lando hollers. 

“In the kitchen.” 

So you slowly traipse behind Lando towards the kitchen, letting him be the one to greet his Mom. He stops just past the doorway, his Mom standing at the counter peeling potatoes, while you’re slightly hidden behind him. “Smells amazing.” He figures starting out with a compliment wouldn’t hurt his situation any.

“Thank you.” 

You can’t exactly see Cisca, but you know just from the tone of her voice and the fact that she doesn’t have her son wrapped up in her arms right now tells you she’s still upset with him. The sound of the peeler against the potatoes is getting more rapid and aggressive– you’re thankful to not be a potato right now. You can slightly see her over Lando’s shoulder and she’s still got her back turned to you both still as she speaks once again. 

“Are you going to introduce me to your girlfriend?” 

Lando steps to the side, nudging you to step into his previous spot. You know Cisca will be thrilled when she sees you, but you’re still a little nervous after seeing the ever apparent cold shoulder that she’s giving Lando right now. You hear the peeling stop as you step into the kitchen and when Cisca turns around to see the supposed mystery girl, the peeler drops to the ground with a clang. 

“Y/N! Oh my darling!” A look of shock, excitement, happiness, and slight confusion washes over her face as she’s practically running towards you and wrapping you up in her arms. “What are you doing here? Lando said you weren’t coming?” She pulls back from the hug and just stares at you, like she’s trying to figure out if you’re actually here. 

“Surprise!” You say with a smile. 

She looks back and forth between you and Lando, who unbestowed to you has the biggest grin on his face. And then like a switch that was flipped her jaw drops and she grabs your shoulders like she’s afraid you’ll run away. “Wait a minute.” 

You feel Lando delicately place his hand on the small of your back as he moves right up against you. “Mum can you stop hogging my girlfriend please.” And you can hear the smile on Lando’s face as he speaks. 

The look on Cisca’s face you would have thought Lando had just won the driver’s championship. “Oh my god finally! My love I’m so happy you’re here. If it hadn’t been you that I saw when I turned around I think I would have had to knock some sense into my hard headed son.” She’s wrapping you up in another bone crushing hug and it’s one of the best feelings in the world to be embraced by someone who truly cares about you. 

“Well to be fair I think we both needed some sense knocked into us a long time ago.” You joke as Cisca finally frees you. 

“Yes, but this is how it was clearly meant to be. I’d always said you two were meant for each other and that one day eventually you’d open your eyes and hearts and realize that your other half had been with you all along.” 

You can see tears start to well up in her eyes.

“God I’m just so happy that you’re here. My heart broke when Lando had said you weren’t coming, but now it’s like it’s been mended. You’re the person for my Lando and I knew that from the first time I met you all those years ago Y/N. You’ve made him so incredibly happy and always been there for him during the extreme lows and highs, but as much as you're his person he’s just as much as yours. I’ve never seen him act like he does with someone like he does with you. I saw that love in his eyes that only a Mother can see the first time he brought you home. He may not have realized it, but I did.” 

Now you’re feeling the tears start to well up in your eyes and it’s only a matter of time before Cisca has got you in her embrace again. 

“Where’s the love for your own son?” Lando asks jokingly as he watches the two most important women in his life. 

“My own son wouldn’t have played with my emotions like you did earlier.” Cisca fires back, before heading back to her previous task.

Lando and you sit down at the small table in the kitchen while Cisca resumes peeling the potatoes. “I told him not to do it.” You say just to finally get in your I told you so.

“And that’s why you’re my favorite!” Cisca chimes in. 

Lando groans, but it’s all an act because there’s nothing that makes his insides turn to mush more than you being so loved and getting along so well with his family. “Maybe I actually shouldn’t have brought you.” 

You know he’s joking, but he earns a full name shout and a look from his Mom that only Mom’s can do. Which in turn emits a giggle from you and to Lando anything is worth getting to hear that melodic sound bless his ears, even getting scolded by his Mother. 

Dinner is spent filling in the rest of his family and both Lando and you somewhat get made fun of as his family points out all the times you two were so blind about how you felt about each other. Then to no one’s surprise Cisca begins to get emotional again as you’re talking to her about Italy. And not soon after Lando says the one thing again that makes your heart skip a beat and your body run hot. 

“Alright Mum save those tears for the wedding.” 

You laugh it off and allow for Cisca’s animated reaction to allow no one to focus on how flustered Lando’s words have you. It was one thing to talk with Max about it, if anything you were sure Max had mentioned (more like teased) you two about getting married many times before. But to just so openly mention it, even if he was just messing around, to his family had your head spinning and the butterflies in your stomach ready to burst out like some sick gory horror movie. 

You had always been close with the Norris family ever since Lando and you had become friends, but there was something about their not so shocked reaction (besides Cisca) that had you wondering if they had just always expected Lando and you to end up together. For you two to get married and grow old together. That the idea of it being anyone other than you had never crossed their minds. So that when Lando does casually mention it during dinner it’s like yeah of course you two would get married? Why wouldn’t you? It’s not until people begin getting up from the table that you come back to reality and out of your head. 

Once the mess from dinner is cleaned up you find yourself looking at all the photos across the house. Picture frames filled with childhood photos and family portraits scattered on shelves, tables, and walls. You’ve seen them all before, each one with a story that’s been told you were sure to anyone who visited the Norris household. Pictures of Lando as a child were your favorite to look at, especially when you see just how tiny he was as a kid. Cute little innocent Lando who had to be velcroed to his karting seat and went up against kids three times his size.

As you continue to look through the pictures your mind begins to think about the future and you can’t help but wonder if your kids would be small like him or when they inevitably started karting if they too would have to be velcroed to their seat. If there was one thing you knew for sure it was that you hoped they would have Lando’s pretty eyes and curly brown hair. God you hoped they wouldn’t inherit his big head. 

Then it’s like reality hits you in the face and you realize just how insane you’re being at the moment. You have to remind yourself once again that you two haven’t been together even a month yet, perhaps thinking about your future children is a little premature. But then you remember Lando mentioning you two getting married multiple times already, so you tell yourself your thoughts aren’t as bad as you made them out to be. 

Moments later a familiar pair of strong arms snake their way around your waist and some unruly curls tickle your neck as Lando rests his chin on your shoulder. He’d been admiring you from the doorway for some time before he finally couldn’t resist not clinging onto you somehow. You feel yourself start to melt into his embrace and before you know it you’re leaning back into him, his arms secured around your midsection as both of you now look at the various photos. “You know you were a pretty cute kid.” 

Lando hums in response, his lips pressing a chaste kiss to your neck as he tries to stop himself from thinking about how much he’d love to have mini versions of you two running around. Not right now of course, but god some years from now he could imagine it clear as day. He hoped they would be little spitting images of you, that he’d hear your laughter in little kid form and know that when he came home from a bad race weekend that he’d have the most important people in his life waiting there for him. He’d always figured he’d eventually settle down and have a family, but now that you’re in his life there’s not a doubt in his mind.

While Lando was thinking the same thoughts you had minutes ago an unfamiliar picture on the wall catches your attention. “Is that one new?” You question, breaking Lando out of his thoughts. 

His eyes follow to where your finger is pointing and sure enough it is. In fact it’s a picture he didn’t even know existed. “Mum must have taken it and decided it was worthy of a place on the picture wall.” Lando mumbles. 

“It is a good picture though.” 

The picture in question? The two of you after the Belgium Grand Prix weeks ago. The race didn’t go the way Lando wanted it to at all. Yet, even with the disappointment from the race it was like when he saw you afterwards none of that shit mattered. He knew he was going to get to spend a week with you in Italy and at the end of the day he knew you’d always be there for him. 

To anyone else looking at the picture they would have thought you two were together, but at the point in time you two were still hard headed dumbasses. He remembers posing for the picture with you, but the angle this one is taken at he knows his Mother must have taken it from behind the scenes. She’d caught him looking at you with the biggest heart eyes mankind has ever seen and a smile that only radiates one thing– love. 

Night time was fast approaching and as everyone retired for the night you found yourself in Lando’s childhood bedroom. It still had its boyish charm with trophies and medals lining the walls next to posters of past racing legends. There wasn’t really anything that had changed since the last time you had stepped foot in his room, it was almost like a time capsule from the last moment in time that Lando still lived at home. 

As you take a seat on the twin bed you glance over at the one thing you loved to tease him about and when you see a bare wall where it should be you��re shocked. A freshly showered Lando walks into the room seconds after you’d spotted the missing piece of history. 

“You took down the Alex poster?!” You bombard him as soon as your eyes land on him. 

Lando furrows his eyebrows as he looks over to the spot where the infamous poster once resided. “Yeah.” He says, like it’s no big deal. 

“Why?!” 

Lando’s confused as to why you’re so distraught over him taking down the poster, but he entertains your inquiry. “Maybe because I didn’t want a poster of Alex Albon, who is my co-worker, staring me down while I fuck my girlfriend.” He teases as he saunters towards the way too small bed. 

You know what you’re planning on saying will get Lando riled up and so you say it with confidence. “Well thats what I was planning on looking at while you fucked me.” 

Lando hates how much of a tease you are and how easily you can press his buttons. He thinks he might need to teach you a lesson and in a flash he’s hovering over you with your hands pinned above your head. “You really know what to say to get me going, don't you love?” 

“Yeah but you love it.” 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

two years later

The salty sea air fills your nostrils as you walk along the beach holding the hand of the man you love. It had been an amazing week in the country you both hold to your hearts so dearly and tonight was the last night before you both had to go back to reality once more. Lando had suggested taking a walk after dinner and you were never one to pass up admiring the natural beauty that Italy has to offer. The lounge chairs and umbrellas were long gone from the beach and all that was left was the lulling waves and a picturesque sunset over the coastline. 

“I’m glad we were able to come back here.” You state as you lean your head on Lando’s shoulder. 

“Me too. It’s been too long.” 

And it truly had, the two of you hadn’t been back to Italy since the first time years ago. Since then the two of you had moved into a beautiful place in Monaco, Lando had two constructors championships and a driver’s championship under his belt, and you had been dominating your new job– quickly moving your way up the ladder. You were both thriving and it seemed like to you life couldn’t get any better than it was right now. 

Lando on the other hand somewhat felt the same. He’d accomplished so many things in the last couple years, but there was something that just didn’t feel complete in his life. And that something was burning a hole in his pants pocket. He’d won both championships, traveled the world more times than he could count, he’s lived a thousand lives it seems, but none of them would ever feel complete until he made you his wife. 

He’d known very early on that he was going to marry you, but the timing never seemed right and it was something he didn’t want to mess up. In all honesty he’d had the ring for over a year and how you hadn’t found it while living together he didn’t know, but the fact that you hadn’t was a sign to him that this is how it was meant to happen. 

You two had been talking about wanting to go back to Italy since what seemed like the day you got back the first time, but it seemed like something was always popping up or you had plans to go to someplace else. So when your schedules lined up and nothing else had been planned Lando knew this was when it was going to happen. 

He’d talked it over with Max trying to create some elaborate plan, but in the end they both agreed that something lowkey and more sentimental would be the best option. So now here he is minutes away from asking the love of his life to be his forever and she has no idea. He seems to be slyly checking his pocket every chance he can get to make sure the ring is still there and each time he feels it he thinks his dinner is about ready to come back up. 

When you ask him to take some pictures of you with the sunset he knows this is the moment. He actually does take a couple pictures of you just as like a moments before kind of thing, but when you turn your back to him he tosses the phone in the sand and grabs that little black box from his pocket. His heart feels like it’s about ready to beat out of his chest and he thinks he’s experiencing more adrenaline now than he ever has while racing. He gets down on one knee and his hands are trembling so bad he can barely open the box to display the ring. This is what he’s been planning for what seems like years, yet in the moment he’s so fucking nervous he can’t even think straight. 

“Oh my god!” 

He hadn’t even looked up at you yet before you had turned around and saw the scene in front of you. Your voice snaps him out of his anxiety induced trance and when he sees the woman he loves standing in front of him on the verge of tears he knows this is meant to be. 

“Y/N Y/L/N. I’ve known I wanted to marry you since practically the first week of our relationship, but I’ve loved you knowingly and unknowingly for what seems like a lifetime. You’re my sun, my moon, and my stars. There isn’t a day that goes by where I don’t acknowledge just how insanely lucky I am to have you in my life and for you to be mine. You love me when I’m happy, when I’m sad, and even when I’m a little bit of an ass.” 

He pauses trying to calm himself. 

“God, you’ve supported me through my worst times in racing and during my absolute best times. You’re my best friend, my soulmate, my lover, you’re everything I’d ever need in life wrapped up into one extraordinary woman. I’ve done so many things in life and accomplished so many things, but my life isn’t complete until I make you my wife. I’ve never loved someone like you and I never plan on loving anyone but you. You’re it for me, you’re the person I want to grow old and grey with. So Y/N, will you make me the happiest man on Earth and marry me?” 

There’s tears streaming down your face and Lando manages to let some of his own fall as he professes his love to you in the most vulnerable way possible. You feel like you’re not even in your body at the moment, but you drop to your knees and grab Lando’s face in your hands, pulling him into the most passionate and loving kiss you two had ever shared. To hear the man you love with every fiber of your being talk about you like that is a moment you’ll never forget. When you pull away you look down at the breathtaking ring that’s residing in the box being held by a still shaky Lando. 

“Yes, I’ll marry you.” You say breathlessly. 

“Yes?” Lando can’t believe the words he’s hearing. 

A huge smile stretches across your face, of course Lando doesn’t believe you. “Yes!” 

In an instant the ring is out of the box and being slid onto your ring finger. It’s even more gorgeous on and as you stare at your hand you really can’t believe you’re engaged. Lando’s pulling you into another breathtaking kiss and you realize you’re kissing your fiance which makes you feel even more giddy. 

“I love you so much.” Lando says as he stares deeply into your eyes, his hand gently cupping your cheek. 

“I love you more.” You counter back. 

“Impossible.” 

As you two walk back to the villa you’re both still on cloud nine, but it doesn’t stop either of you from being your cheeky selves. “Y/N Norris does have a nice ring to it doesn’t it?” 

You give him a tight lipped smile. “This is awkward… I thought you’d be taking my last name.” 

Lando lets out a laugh, pulling you tighter into his side. “Honestly I’ll do whatever you want my love.” 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

a year later 

The wedding was planned rather quickly, the both of you almost considering just getting eloped, but you knew you’d want the memories and stories to tell. So, you planned a wedding with just your families and close friends to attend. 

The ceremony itself was beautiful and you couldn’t have asked for it to be any more romantic or sentimental. Tears were shed by both Lando and you and the crowd during your vows. The way Lando talked about you and expressed just how much he loved you let you know you had made the right choice in marrying him. 

The reception on the other hand was what seemed to be the party of the century. You had ditched your long elegant wedding gown for a much shorter white dress. While Lando ditched his suit jacket and had opted to roll up his sleeves and unbutton the top buttons on his shirt which had you feeling feral. You’re husband was looking hot as fuck and you couldn’t wait to have some alone time with him. 

As the two of you sat at the wedding party table you heard the clinking of silverware on a champagne flute. To your right stood Max Fewtrell with his glass held high and everyone’s eyes on him. “Excuse me everyone, but as the best man I’m required to give a speech, so here goes nothing.” He shoots a wink towards Lando and you and you’re scared for what’s about to come out his mouth. “Well let me just start off by saying, I think we all figured this day would eventually come, but for a while we didn’t think it ever would. I mean I don’t think I’ve ever seen two people be more in love with each other for years and not realize it and deny it!” 

The crowd laughs and you feel your cheeks turn pink at the teasing, choosing to hide your face in Lando’s neck for a moment while Max continues. 

“There was a time where we all went on a group trip to Greece and mind you there was a group of us and Lando and Y/N acted like no one else existed. They’d go off and do their own thing, leaving everyone else behind, and this was probably a good year before they finally opened their eyes. Then when they went to Italy together by themselves and made it seem like it wasn’t a big deal, when it was all Lando could literally talk about the week leading up to it. Luckily they came back and realized how in love they were with each other, because I know I can speak for myself and everyone in this room when I say we all would have had to knock some sense into you if you hadn’t.” 

More laughter fills the air and both Lando and you have a little red tint to your cheeks, which you both blame on the alcohol. 

“Anyways, I’m so happy that my two best friends have each other in the way they were intended to. You two are my favorite example of love and I hope I can make another speech at your fiftieth wedding anniversary.” Max raises his glass in a toast. “Here’s to the happy couple. May your love last a million lifetimes.” 

The crowd erupts into applause and hoots and hollers as Max sits back down in his chair. Lando presses a quick kiss to your temple before quickly getting up from his chair, repeating the actions of Max’s glass clinking. You look up at him confused, but he just shoots you a smile before speaking. 

“First of all thank you all for coming to celebrate me marrying a woman who’s way out of my league. Secondly, thank you Max for that lovely speech.”

Laughter and cheers fill the air once again and then there’s some commotion in the background somewhere. Then you see two guys wheeling a projector screen to the middle of the room where everyone can see it. 

“Um, I’ve got a little something for my amazing wife that I’ve been working on for years and actually I had been working on it unknowingly for years before that. Anyways, let me stop rambling and show you.” Lando sits back down in his chair next to you as the lights dim and before you can ask him what’s going on his pretty little face pops up on the screen. 

“Hi baby! Over the years of us being together I’ve been capturing pictures and videos of you. Which is nothing new, we are always taking pictures and stuff, but these ones are special. These are pictures and videos that you’ve never seen. Instead of me explaining just let me show you. I love you so much and I want everyone to see the extraordinary woman I’ve married. I want everyone to see you how I see you.”

The screen fades to black and then pictures of you begin to pop up, ones that you didn’t even know existed. You’re so used to Lando having his camera out that you never thought to think of the ones he didn’t show you. Pictures of you in your pajamas making breakfast to you in your work attire to you all glammed up for a gala. Videos of you singing in the car, laughing, and just existing. Birthdays, trips, everything you could imagine someone could capture. Then you realize some of these pictures and videos are from before you two even got together from when you were still friends. 

It makes your heart swell to know Lando’s been capturing you in such a loving way since basically the beginning of you two knowing each other. You don’t even realize your crying until you feel Lando gently wiping away your tears. If someone would have told you years ago before you two went to Italy that you’d be here today married to Lando and crying over the most beautiful thing he’s ever given you, you would have laughed in their face. You look into your husband’s eyes and you know that there’s not another human being on this planet that could love you like he loves you. There’s a permanent place for him in your heart now and deep down you think there always has been. He’s your person and you're his and sure it may have taken you guys awhile to get here, but everything happens for a reason and you know you two were meant to be here at this moment right now. 

“You’re mine forever you know that right? I love you so much it hurts.” You tell him as the video ends and the guests also wipe their tears. 

Lando grabs your hands in his, his thumb rubbing over your knuckles. “Forever and always, baby.” 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

five years later 

A little girl with a mop of brown curls and laughter that resembles her Mother plays in the sand with her Father by her side. “Daddy!” She screeches looking up at him with eyes that mirror his– pretty blue like the water. The waves keep inching closer and closer to the sandcastle they’re building and the little girl is worried their hard work will be washed away any minute now. “I know my love. We should have listened to Mommy and built it further up.” 

“Mommy know’s everything.” She states matter of factly. 

The man lets out a laugh. “That she does.” 

A baby lays on his Mother’s chest as they both lounge under an umbrella. The woman watches her husband and daughter lovingly as they play in the sand. She catches her husband's eye and he flashes her a smile that even after all these years makes butterflies erupt in her stomach. 

Later after a day spent at the beach they’re both carrying a sleeping child back to the villa, their world in their arms. Finally when both kids are sound asleep in their beds the adults find themselves sitting outback with an all too familiar scenery around them. The man leaves for a brief second and while he’s gone the woman watches her babies through the baby monitor, her heart swelling over the fact that she made them with the love of her life. 

When he returns he has something hidden behind his back and with a raised eyebrow from his wife he reveals an old favorite of theirs. 

“The trip wouldn’t be complete without this now would it?” He says as he sits down next to her. 

“God we haven’t had this in forever.” She says as she takes the glass of pink moscato from him. 

“Just a man after your heart.” 

She laughs at her husband's antics. “You’ve already got it darling.” 

[kathaelipwse]

You Can Take It, Right? | S.Mingi

MDNI 18+

Song recs: Friends by Chase Atlantic | Take you down by Chris Brown | Say my name by ateez | Red lights by Skz |

Warnings: Heavy sexual tension, explicit dirty talk, mutual pining, teasing, best-friends-to-lovers energy, Mingi being a menace, mild language, hot & messy make-out session.

Trope: Best Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Friends Who Flirt Too Much, Slow Burn with a Payoff

WC: 781 words

Synopsis:

What starts as harmless teasing turns into something far more dangerous when Mingi decides he’s done playing around. Trapped between him and the couch, you’re forced to answer the question—will you push him away or pull him closer?

Author’s Note:

I had way too much fun writing this, and I hope you enjoy Mingi being an absolute menace with that dirty mouth of his. The tension? Thick. The teasing? Dangerous. And that payoff? Worth the wait. LMK if you want a part two! 😉

You should’ve known better than to challenge Song Mingi.

It started off the way it always did—banter, teasing, stolen glances that lasted too long to be friendly. You were used to pushing each other’s buttons, toeing the line but never quite stepping over it. Until tonight.

It was just the two of you, sprawled out on his couch after a movie, the soft glow of the screen flickering over his face. The teasing had started when he caught you staring.

"Like what you see?" he’d smirked, stretching his arms over his head, his hoodie riding up just enough to show a glimpse of his toned stomach.

You rolled your eyes, trying to act unaffected. "Please. You’re all talk."

That was the mistake.

Because the second those words left your mouth, Mingi shifted—his lazy smirk sharpening into something darker, something unreadable.

"All talk, huh?" His voice was lower now, dipping into that deep, husky register that made your stomach tighten.

Before you could react, he moved—one arm bracing against the back of the couch, the other pressing into the cushion beside your hip, caging you in effortlessly.

The air changed.

Mingi wasn’t smiling anymore. His eyes dragged over your face, slow and deliberate, lingering on the way your lips parted, your breath suddenly uneven.

"You can take it, right?" he murmured, and fuck. The way he said it—like a challenge, like a promise—sent a shiver straight through you.

You swallowed, trying to keep your voice steady. "Mingi—"

He hummed, dipping his head until his lips hovered just above your ear. His breath was warm against your skin, his voice a deep rasp that made your stomach flip.

"Look at you," he mused. "All quiet now. Wasn’t so cocky a second ago."

You clenched your fists, fighting the urge to squirm. "Shut up."

Mingi chuckled, the sound low and smug. "Make me."

Your breath caught.

He was still so close, his body heat sinking into you, his scent—clean, warm, Mingi—wrapping around you like a trap. But it wasn’t just his presence. It was his voice—the way he was dragging this out, letting his words settle over your skin, heavy and thick.

"If I touched you right now," he murmured, his lips just barely grazing your jaw, "would you push me away… or pull me closer?"

You should’ve pushed him away.

You should’ve.

But instead, your fingers twitched, itching to grab the front of his hoodie and pull. And Mingi saw. His smirk widened, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips as he let out a low chuckle.

"That’s what I thought."

Your patience snapped.

With one sharp tug, you fisted his hoodie and yanked him down.

Mingi barely had time to react before your lips crashed into his. And for a second, he froze—like he hadn’t actually expected you to cross the line first. But then he moved.

A groan rumbled from his chest as he kissed you back, deep and hungry, his hands gripping your waist, pulling you flush against him. The shift sent you sprawling back onto the couch, Mingi following without hesitation, pressing you into the cushions as his weight settled over you.

His mouth was hot, his lips parting just enough for his tongue to brush against yours, slow and teasing. His fingers dug into your hips, keeping you pinned beneath him, his body pressing into yours like he needed to be closer.

"Fuck," he muttered against your lips, breathless. "You taste better than I imagined."

Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan. "You imagined this?"

Mingi grinned against your mouth, his teeth grazing your lower lip before sucking it between his teeth, biting down just enough to make your breath hitch. "Baby, you have no idea."

The way he said it—low, rough, possessive—sent a full-body shiver through you.

And then he was everywhere. His lips trailed along your jaw, down the column of your neck, each kiss punctuated by a hushed whisper, a dirty little confession. "Been thinking about this for so long." A slow, open-mouthed kiss to your collarbone. "The way you look at me? Drives me insane." His teeth scraped against your skin, making your fingers tighten in his hair.

"Mingi—"

He groaned, his hands tightening around your hips as he rocked against you, his breath coming out in a shaky exhale. "Say my name like that again, and I swear I won’t stop at just kissing you."

Heat flooded through you.

But before you could respond, his phone buzzed on the coffee table.

The sudden noise snapped you both back to reality, your heaving breaths the only sound filling the room. Mingi didn’t move right away—his forehead still resting against yours, his fingers still gripping your hips like he was this close to saying screw it and going all the way.

You let out a shaky laugh. "Guess we got a little carried away."

Mingi groaned, dropping his head into the crook of your neck. "Worst timing ever."

You nudged him playfully. "You gonna check that?"

"Absolutely not."

You giggled, finally pushing at his chest until he let you sit up. But when you looked at him, his dark, hooded eyes were still locked on you, his lips kiss-swollen, his breathing uneven.

"This isn’t over," he murmured, tilting your chin up with his fingers.

You swallowed hard. "No?"

His smirk returned, slow and dangerous. "Oh, baby… I’ve barely even started."

---

[trivia-yandere]

I just found Family Matters and aaaaarghh cmon, you are alwaysssss alwaysss so telented, their chemistry!

Is ... maybe a part 2 on the way, tried to look for one but did not find it soooo i am here... just curious 👀 

Take care sweetie!

i actually like yoongi and mc in family matters - fuck it another part!!

family matters (2)

somehow, you find yourself back at yoongi's home after an uneventful five months of pregnancy.

word count: 6.000

warning: kissing, affair/cheating, dirty talking, unprotected sex, pregnant sex, fluff lmao,smut, praising, fingering, nipple sucking, impregnation kink,

part one

Nerves are flowing through you rapidly. Your palms are sweaty as you sit on the toilet, lid down, and you wait for the results.

You were more than positive that you were pregnant. You missed your period already and - in all actuality - there couldn’t be a way around it. Not with the amount of sex you and Yoongi had.

Yoongi.

Your mind wanders to the younger Min brother. His kind smile he had given you, reassuring that he would be the best uncle he could be; it was heart-wrenching when only you and he knew the truth of it all.

Yoongi wasn’t going to allow you to leave without taking the check with you. After the first week when he hadn’t noticed the money taken out, he had reached out to you. That same week, you had done what he asked. It was enough money to last years, not including interest. How were you going to explain such a large amount of money to Yo-han without him growing suspicious?

Or you can just tell the truth - if it came to that - right? Tell Yo-han that his brother thought about his future niece or nephew and gave them a hefty savings for when they were of age?

It was easier said than done, especially with how arrogant Yo-han was. Everything was a competition about being better, the first, the favorite or the overall top.

Your alarm sounds loudly in the bathroom, echoing off of the walls and startling you entirely. You shut it off, your hands immediately grasping the white and blue test on the bathroom sink and sighing when you see the words displayed on it.

Pregnant - yet you knew this much. Every once in a while your brain forces you to replay the scenes of you and Yoongi entangled together in his bed. Each and every time, you felt even worse of a wife.

You supposed you made it up by attempting to be better for You-han. You assured you cooked his meals right on time with him coming home from work. You occupied your time with cleaning and organizing - and when he was in the mood, you told yourself you were, too.

Yo-han and you were eating in silence when you cleared your throat. His dark eyes glances up at you, one brow slowly raising.

“How was your day?” you question, lifting a glass of water and taking a sip.

“Alright.” Yo-han responds. “I still have to close in on a deal but I’m sure I have it settled.”

You nod your head, though you couldn’t pretend to care about Yo-han and his work life. If you’d allow him, he’d go on and on about the company and his arrogance would often show. It would turn to his younger brother and his mood would sour instantly - over nothing.“I have something to tell you.” you lick your lips. You weren’t hungry anymore. Your stomach is bubbling with nerves already.

“Do you?” Yo-han offers you his full attention.

You nod your head. You take a deep breath. How would he react? Yo-han rarely mentions wanting children, even if his mother insisted on it. He always told you “not now” or “it’s too soon”. But when? You weren’t getting any younger and you were lonely in such a big home while Yo-han worked. Your friends were occupied with their own families and you were far away from your own - was it selfish in wanting a child of your own to have to love?

“I’m pregnant.”

Yo-han was never a man of grand emotions. The Min family were just like that. However, you weren’t expecting Yo-han to stare at you blankly for longer than a few moments. You contemplated repeating yourself if you weren’t already positive that he heard you loud and clear. There wasn’t any other sound in the home besides the ones you and him made.

Yo-han, without removing his eyes from you, lifts his wine glass and downs the rest. For a moment, he and Yoongi look so much alike that it causes your stomach to sink.

“How?”

Your lips form a thin line at Yo-han’s question.

“We’re always careful.” Yo-han continues.

“Condoms aren’t always effective-”

“They have been this entire time, haven’t they?” Yo-han scoffs. 

This is what you knew was going to happen. It was always a possibility that Yo-han was going to react in such a way that made you regret doing this. But it was a risk you took - deciding that it’s what you wanted. 

“I don’t even think we’re ready for a baby right now, Y/N.”

You bite the inside of your cheek to calm your emotions.

“What are you trying to say, Yo-han?” your voice is low when you ask. “There’s no going back.” you scoff.

Yo-han swallows. He pushes his seat back and lets out a low sigh. He slowly begins to unbutton his shirt, glancing away for a moment.

“Of course there is.” Yo-han murmurs through gritted teeth. He doesn’t want to say it - to sound as selfish as he always is. “I’m not in the right space for a baby right now, Y/N. And neither are you-”

“How can you tell me when I’m ready?” you hiss. You never raise your voice at Yo-han and the action causes him to stop and look at you. “How many more years are you planning on getting higher and higher? How high can you even go in a company you own?”

You lift yourself from the table and grasp your plate and cup. You turn on the sink and pour the rest of your water down the drain before throwing out the remainder of your dinner. You take several deep breaths, attempting to calm yourself down.

“Y/N,”

Yo-han leans against the island opposite of you. He doesn’t want to have this conversation now, it’s obvious. But he doesn’t want to hesitate and wait until it’s too late.

“Baby let’s think about this.”

“I did.” you tell him. You pick up your sponge and coat it with soap before you begin to wash your dish. “And I’m keeping it. I have an appointment tomorrow to see how far along I am.” Yet, you know already.

Yo-han’s foot begins to tap against the marble floor.

“You’re only doing this because you’re bored.” Yo-han scoffs. “Why don’t you pick up a hobby? Book club? Pilates or…I don’t know what women do these days.”

You place your plate onto the dryer rack, deciding that it was best to ignore Yo-han.

“Once a baby is in the picture things change. Marriages change. It’s all about the baby-”

“You’re barely here, Yo-han. Your life will remain the same.” you retort with a roll of your eyes. “You’ll come and go as you please, right? What’s wrong with me…” you stop yourself. It was sounding a bit more obvious why you wanted a baby, and it was more selfish than intended.

Yo-han rubs his temples. It was only day 1 but stress was already eating him alive. 

“Did you tell anyone, yet?” Yo-han questions after a few silent minutes. You had since turned off the water and began drying your hands.

“No.” you murmur.

Straightening his shoulders, Yo-han responds, “How about we think about this before you do?” he suggests. “If this is what you truly want…”

“How about this?”

Your mother in law is holding up two onesies - one a light pink and the other a soft, baby-blue onesie with white cursive lettering that says “oh baby”  at the center of it. You blink a few times to come back to reality.

Upon telling your mother in law that you were pregnant, she was far more ecstatic than your husband was - that was obvious. You had called her after telling Yo-han that you’d think about it. He had gone to shower while you went to call her - because if she knew, that meant that there was nothing your husband could force you to do.

Five months later, Yo-han and you weren’t close in the slightest. He worked longer hours - his excuse being he had to work for the child. He allowed you to go baby shopping alone. If you needed any help building, he would pay for it. He wasn’t interested and deep down, you couldn’t blame him. You forced this baby - one that wasn’t his - in his life because you hoped he would come around.

Yo-han never did - not yet at least; yet you’re positive he won’t.

“They’re cute.” you murmur, forcing a smile to your lips that don’t reach your eyes.

She knows her son and your mother in law understands that Yo-han isn’t as ecstatic with being a father as she would like him to be. This is why she would often accompany you to whatever appointments you had or would visit you whenever she was free.

Her company was wanted and warm, but it wasn’t the same as going to bed with a warm body at night. But you made your bed and you were going to lie in it.

“Has my son come around?”

She lowers the onesie and lets out a disappointed sigh. No matter how many times she calls her son to demand he act differently, she is left with more useless excuses. Her words fall on deaf ears.

“Yo-han’s been very busy with work-”

“Don’t defend him, Y/N.” she cuts you off. “This is his first child.”

She shakes her head. Very rarely has she been disappointed with her eldest son, but he was disappointing her in ways he’s never had before.

“I got a cake.” your mother in law begins to smile. You notice her feminine features are more potent in Yoongi than they are in Yo-han. “For you and Yo-han…”

You raise your eyebrows. “A cake?”

She nods her head. “I know you said you didn’t want a party.” she says. “Gender reveal parties are all the crave now, right?”

You laugh. You had told her you weren’t in a mood for a large party or even a small get together. Your pregnancy wasn’t one that left you content unless you were around her. Yo-han was always gone and you aren’t even sure he would attend if it did happen. You didn’t want to have to explain to your friends why your husband couldn’t take one day off of work to be there for you and your unborn child.

It was easier to pretend.

“My niece said a gender reveal cake is more intimate for you and Yo-han.” your mother in law appears entirely too happy. “I gave the baker the envelope and she said she’ll put the color into the cake.”

You inhale through your nose. You aren’t sure you wanted to know the gender yet. Your mother wanted a girl - obviously having two boys - and your father in law wanted a boy. Yo-han hasn’t stated anything and you…

You just wanted a baby..

“I have it in the car.” your mother in law continues. She wants you to be happy - to enjoy your pregnancy with or without her son.

“I’ll take it home.” you nod reassuringly. “Yo-han should be home tonight.”

You’re lying. Yo-han told you he wouldn’t be home until the weekend, but you didn’t want any of her pity. You would pretend you were going home to find the gender of your baby with your loving husband.

However, that’s not what happened. You found yourself outside an entirely different home.

Yoongi opens the door, his eyes immediately softening when he looks at you outside. You appear shy and uncertain and before you can speak, he’s inviting you in.

You kick off your shoes and follow Yoongi to his kitchen where you place the cake onto the island. 

You turn to face him nervously. “I shouldn’t be here.” you murmur.

Though you haven’t seen Yoongi in months in person, you and he had spoken. You talk on the phone and sometimes you and he text. He checks in on you at times, asking if you’re craving something new or different. 

You had shown pictures of your ultrasound to Yoongi, confused on how doctors and nurses could tell what the black and white blob on the screen was.

He would tell you random facts - like now you’re the size of a papaya - and you would always laugh at how cute he sounded.

How excited.

Unlike your husband.

“Your mother…got me a cake.” you begin. “To find out the gender and…Yo-han isn’t home.”

Yo-han isn’t interested is more like it, but what’s understood between the both of you didn’t need to be said.

“And I thought you wanted to…” your heart is pounding so loud. Your cheeks are warm. “...I don’t know if this is inappropriate or not. I think it is. I didn’t even think before coming here and-”

Yoongi’s hands, large and warm, place themselves onto your cheeks. You immediately silent yourself, eyes blinking at him.

“Calm down.” Yoongi murmurs. His thumb rubs along your lips for a moment. “I would love to find out the gender with you.”

You nod your head slowly. Your palms are sweaty when Yoongi removes his hands from your cheeks and smiles. 

Yoongi wasn’t expecting to have you here, but he would be lying if he said it didn’t brighten his evening. He knows just what his brother is putting you through and though he doesn’t agree, he was expecting this. Yo-han was a selfish person. He had his entire life planned out and a baby wasn’t a part of it yet. You had caused him to have to re-write his own life plan and he was pissed about it.

“Your belly is growing.” Yoongi notes, taking a step back. There’s an obvious bump in your stomach. You haven’t gotten maternity shirts yet so a part of your stomach hangs out a bit from your tank top - the only acceptable piece of clothing you could managed at the moment.

You look down to your stomach and laugh, nodding your head. “Yeah. Yeah it has.” you agree. You place a hand onto your stomach. “Sometimes I feel it moving. The doctor says around this time there should be some kicking and moving.”

“Really?” Yoongi asks. His hand twitches to touch you, but he doesn’t. He has to remember there was a boundary between you and him. 

“Really.” you nod. Without thinking, you grab Yoongi’s hand and place it onto the side of your stomach. “I don’t think you can feel anything now but..” you gently poke your stomach in an attempt to get the fetus to do something.

Yoongi marvels at the feel of your stomach. He’s highly intrigued with how round it is - with how a baby could form inside of you in just under a year. “The baby will be the size of a grapefruit next week,” he says, eyes intrigued.

You couldn’t help but laugh at yet another random fact; a laugh that Yoongi joins in on. It’s a bittersweet moment, you think. You smiled more now with Yoongi than you ever did with Yo-han the last few months, your body feeling warm.

Yoongi’s eyes glances up at yours and for a moment, it’s a sweet moment. From the outside looking in, you and Yoongi are experiencing a sweet moment together and it was just that.

Yet anyone that knew the both of you would see this as weird. Yoongi wasn’t your husband - and he wasn’t supposed to be this happy just as an “uncle” to feel your stomach.

Yoongi removes his hands as if he’s thinking the same thing you are. He takes a few steps back, his warm presence going right along with him.

“Let’s find out.” you jump to change the subject in an attempt to make things less awkward. You gulp, hands lifting towards the small white box to open it.

“So we’re just supposed to cut the cake or…?” Yoongi watches. 

When you open the box, Yoongi’s interested in how simple yet effected it looks. It’s an all white cake with “baby boy or girl” written in the middle of it, patterned in blue and pink.

“We can. I’ve seen different ways.”

You turn to Yoongi and raise your brows.

“What ways?” Yoongi smiles. He can tell that you’re a bit excited and jittery.

“Do you have any champagne glasses?”

Yoongi nods his head, taking a step away to go towards his cabinets. “I don’t really use them as often,” he states. He grabs two and returns, placing them onto the island.

“So,” you take a hold of both of them and lift one up to Yoongi for him to take. 

“So.” Yoongi grins as you face him and away from the cake. 

“We’re going to sink the champagne glass into the cake”

“Okay-”

“Don’t look!” you hiss, but you aren’t upset. You giggle immediately when Yoongi’s head snaps towards you. “We’re supposed to look together.”

“Okay.” Yoongi nods. He chuckles a bit, gummy smile causing your heart to jolt.

“Okay, so we’re just going to sink it in now…”

Yoongi’s eyes remain on yours as he tries his best to do what you’re asking of him. His own heart is beating with nerves that he feels that shouldn’t be there. He feels honored to be a part of this moment with you, but it wasn’t going to last. Eventually, you’d have to return home where you lived with Yo-han and he would have to go back to just being Yoongi.

“Do you have cake?” you ask.

Yoongi nods his head. “I should.”

“Okay.” you murmur. “Now lift.”

Yoongi does, hoping that none of the cake drops from his champagne glass and makes a mess. He has to admit the entire ordeal was possibly meant to be messy, but he’s far from annoyed.

“Do we do a countdown?” Yoongi murmurs. His foot taps against the floor with nerves, his eyes watching you for the next step.

You nod. “Yeah…” you murmur. “3…”

“…2…” Yoongi adds, just for the suspense. He laughs at the look on your face that possibly mirrors your own.

“...1.” 

Your head snaps along with his to the champagne glass. Your eyes widen, as do Yoongi’s, at the blue sponge cake in the glass. 

You never thought about the gender of your child. You told yourself you would be happy with whatever gender just as long as they were healthy. 

But now that your eyes witness the blue tint, your heart warms and you cannot help but be excited. You squeal, eyes widening when you turn to Yoongi. Your excitement is contagious, and he cannot help but let out a laugh. 

You’re unsure why it happened - maybe you were far too excited for once in your pregnancy, and Yoongi's demeanor is just as excited as you. Your lips clash onto Yoongi’s and you push yourself away before he has the chance to.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-”

Yoongi presses his lips onto yours in response, a hand tugging you closer to him. The kiss doesn’t last long, but it was enough of a response in assuring you that he wasn’t upset about the kiss.

When Yoongi lifts his lips from yours, his forehead is lightly pressed against your own, eyes fluttering open. He is silent, as are you. You weren’t supposed to be in this position at all, nor were you supposed to be in Yoongi’s home. This cake was for you and Yo-han, yet here you are experiencing a moment with someone else entirely.

A position you put yourself in time and time again.

“I’m making things more complicated.” you murmur, breath warm against his lips. 

“The decision we made wasn’t as simple either.” Yoongi retorts. “It’s difficult for both of us.”

You rarely thought about how Yoongi might feel in this situation about being a father. You thought maybe it was easier  for him as he wasn’t the one that had to be around. Yet here you are, celebrating the fact that his first child was a son - and it was with his brother’s wife.

You take a deep breath, closing your eyes.

“You can stay for tonight.” Yoongi suggests, a pleading undertone in his voice. His hand gently squeezes your waist.

“I shouldn’t.” you sigh, but your own hand touches Yoongi’s chest. You make no attempt to move away and neither does Yoongi.

“You shouldn’t.” Yoongi agrees with a curt nod. 

You both stand in silence, too close for in-laws to be. Yoongi’s presence was so warm and welcoming that leaving here - like you should be - and going back to a quiet, cold and lonely home didn’t feel right. Even if you were the reason for it.

What you and Yoongi were doing was wrong. You shouldn’t be in his bed, lips pressed firmly against one another. His hands shouldn’t be pulling your pants down nor should your hands be tugging at his shirt.

You and Yoongi had one agreement - five months ago. You would go against your marriage and get pregnant by your brother in law and have the family your husband wasn’t ready to have. That agreement didn’t mean returning to your brother in law when things got tough - when you were sad and lonely while at home. But here you are - and here Yoongi was allowing it.

“You’re so beautiful, Y/N.” Yoongi grunts against your lips. One hand dips between your legs to touch your clothed clit.

“You don’t have to lie and flatter me, Yoongi. I look a mess.” you snicker, but you had to admit his words flatter you.

Yoongi doesn’t blink nor is he amused by your attempting to joke. “My brother doesn’t compliment you enough.” he states low.

Yoongi connects his lips back to yours, slowly molding it against his. His fingers work their way between your panties until they feel your wet clit. He groans against your lips, but he doesn’t break the kiss. 

You’re wet - wetter than you have been in months. Yo-han and you had stopped having sex once your bump formed. And even then, the sex wasn’t the same. It felt like a chore for the both of you instead of passionate sex between husband and wife.

Yoongi’s fingers glides between your folds, feeling such arousal that he’s missed for months now - arousal that he couldn’t get his mind off of. No matter whatever one night stand he attempted to use to occupy his time, it never lived up to you.

Maybe you were different because he knew you personally. You and him had ties; he would always have to see you.

Or it was possibly the adrenaline rush in knowing that you were forbidden to him; completely off limits. 

Whatever it was, Yoongi could only hope that one day you would return to him, and you had. A part of him feels shitty for having you here now when it was obvious that you were hurting - you were lonely and had experienced less affection from your husband as the days went on. But he cannot help but want to feel you again.

You’re first to break the kiss to let out a strangled gasp when Yoongi’s fingers begin to pump into you without warning. Your right hand tangles into his hair - it’s soft to the touch. Your pussy squeezes around him greedily. 

“Feels good?” Yoongi questions, though he knows the answer. He leans back enough so he can see the way two of his fingers pump in and out of you. Your arousal is shiny against his palm and all he can do is chuckle. “You missed me?”

Maybe it was an arrogant question - but Yoongi was an arrogant man. Especially when it came to his brother. He didn’t live his life wanting to be better than Yo-han - that was no way to live. But he got great satisfaction in knowing that you were here with him right now instead of waiting for his brother to return home. Even if he couldn’t brag about it aloud, just living it was enough.

“I missed you so much.” you bite your lip to suppress another moan, your grip on Yoongi’s hair only tightening.

Yoongi himself groans. His eyes lift to yours for a moment, before he glances down to your breast. They’ve grown a bit since the last time he saw you - as they would with pregnancy.  His free hand goes to pull your tank top down just enough so your breast can pop out. His mouth is already salivating at how perky your nipples were already. The tip of his tongue swirls it teasingly, enjoying the way your back arches a bit.

With Yoongi’s pumping fingers and his warm tongue suckling onto your nipple, you were seeing stars. You’re not fighting off your moans any longer, nor are your fingers letting go of Yoongi’s hair.

It all feels so scandalous like it did the first time. Only now, you were returning to the same man who impregnated you in the first place. It’s all fucked up, truly, but it’s nothing either of you could do now.

“Want you to cum all over my fingers.” Yoongi pops your nipple from his mouth long enough to speak. He captures the other one, suckling with the same amount of need. His eyes are full of lust as they glance up at you.

The way your pussy is squeezing his fingers, Yoongi knows just how well his fingers are fucking you. His palm rubs against your swollen clit for added pleasuring and it causes your thighs to shake. 

“Y-Yoongi…” your back arches a bit more, allowing Yoongi more access to your breast. He nearly has half of it in his mouth, groaning as his fingers have their way with you. Your eyes close tightly as that familiar churning in your stomach appears.

“Your pussy’s so wet, baby.” Yoongi grumbles, his mouth wet with saliva and your nipple nearly swollen. “You’re gonna cum for me?”

You nod hastily, your thighs closing when it comes. But Yoongi only pumps quicker, moaning along with you. You were insanely attractive this way - it had to be the pregnancy glow.

“Wanna feel your cock in me.” you murmur, wrapping both arms around him now. “Want you to cum in me.”

Yoongi swallows, eyes slightly widening. “Yeah?” he hums, his already hardened cock twitching. It wants to be let out and plunged inside of you already.

“Please.”

Fuck - how could Yoongi resist you? He fumbles with his pants for a moment before his cock springs out when he drops them along with his underwear.

You’re not too far along where being in this position is uncomfortable, so you widen your legs. You’ve wanted Yoongi’s cock in you for far too long to want to wait any longer.

Yoongi wraps a palm around his cock and slaps it against your wet clit before rubbing it between your  folds. He shudders at the feeling, having missed your pussy wrapped around his.

“You’re so tight.” Yoongi grunts as he enters you. “He hasn’t been fucking you good, has he?”

Both of Yoongi’s hands settle onto your hips as he slowly pumps inside of you. His head falls limp backwards for a moment as he takes a few soft moments to savor just how wet and tight you are.

Your own hands sink into the sheets, your pussy clenching and unclenching around his cock. This was passionate - something you haven’t received in so long. When Yo-han and you were active, it didn’t feel like passionate sex, more like a chore.

Yoongi’s hips pick up the pace. His cock pumps in and out of you, going deeper and deeper. Your walls were so heavenly, wrapping around him and milking him entirely. You were already pregnant, but he wishes he could experience impregnating you over and over again.

“You’re fucking me so good.” you shudder.

Yoongi opens his eyes to look at you. 

A mistake.

Your breasts are bouncing with each thrust, causing him to pump more eagerly. Your pussy is wet, a creamy ring soaked around his cock.

But it was your stomach that caused Yoongi's hands to tighten around your frame. He never had sex with someone that was pregnant before - not until now. Someone he impregnated. Was it weird that it turned him on even more? It shouldn't be (right?).

But it did. Yoongi’s hips snap deeper inside of you, his eyes dancing between your bump to your breast, then to your face.

“You’re so pretty pregnant.” Yoongi blurts out with a soft gasp. His right hand rubs at your bump for a moment, shaking his head to get rid of these intrusive thoughts. “So, so pretty.”

Your cheeks warm at the compliment. Yoongi hadn’t stopped complimenting you yet and it was a new experience. You ponder if Yo-han didn’t find you as pretty as he did before, but you also find that you don’t care at the moment. Not while you’re with Yoongi.

“Of course you think so. You’re the one that did this to me.”

“I would do it again.”

Yoongi shouldn’t speak so lustfully, but he cannot help it. Your pussy feels too good and it’s clouding his best judgment. But he was a man and any man enjoyed the thought of impregnating a woman - even if it was just bedroom talk.

Anyone but Yo-han that was. But fuck Yo-han.

“You’d want another baby, wouldn’t you?” Yoongi leans down a bit closer, his hands lifting from your stomach to place on both sides of you. He places his hands onto yours, tangling your fingers together. “Our son needs someone to play with.”

This was wrong - it all was fucked up. Yoongi shouldn’t sound so possessive of the child he couldn’t be there to raise as his own, but he is. And you are just as excited at the sound of “our son” coming from Yoongi’s lips, his tone so deep and husky that it sends shivers up your spine.

“Y-Yeah,” you moan with a short nod of your head. Your stomach churns - it was far too soon for you to be cumming again, but here you were. “‘want you to get me pregnant again after this.”

Yoongi hisses, his hips snapping sloppily into you. This was your fault that he was this way - you were only entertaining him further with things that couldn’t happen again. Yet, you told yourself that you wouldn’t allow Yoongi to fuck you again and here you and he were.

“You’re such a good girl, Y/N, letting me fuck you raw again.” Yoongi’s lips graze yours. “You don’t have to wait so long next time. You don’t have to force yourself to fuck your husband, either.”

You bite your lip at the pressuring building up deep within your core.

“I’ll fuck you whenver you want, baby.” Yoongi feels his cock swell, ready to release right inside of you. He knew he wasn’t going to last long - not when it came to you. If he was lucky, you wouldn’t leave and he would get to pump even more cum into you throughout the night. 

“I’m cumming..!” you gasp out, your thighs twitching automatically. You’re clenching around Yoongi so hard that you’re forcing him to cum right along with you, an action he isn’t upset about.

“Everything alright?”

Yoongi blinks a few times, his eyes dancing around the dinner table until they land on his mother. She’s looking straight at him with the same feline-like eyes that matches his own. She’s staring a hole right through him.

“Yes.” Yoongi nods his head. He lifts his wine glass up and brings it to his lips. “Dinner is good.”

“I’m actually surprised you showed up.”

And then there was that voice that caused Yoongi’s mood to immediately sour.

Yo-han appears that he wish he could be anywhere else but here. He isn’t seated next to his wife, no, you’re right across from him and right next to his mother. He is forced to be next to Yo-han, but both brothers' chairs are pushed to the furthest away from one another.

“As am I.” Yoongi retorts. “I’ve been busy.”

“With music?” Yo-han sounds as if he wants to laugh, but refrains. “How hard could it be to talk on a track?”

“As hard as it can be to be away from your wife for weeks on end.” Yoongi rebuttals with another sip of wine. Maybe he shouldn’t have said that. After all, he isn’t supposed to know.

Yo-han’s eyes glances from Yoongi to you. Immediately, you advert them.

“I see my wife has been pillow talking with my brother.”

“What Yoongi means,” his mother speaks up this time. “Is that he has been the one to help Y/N. Do you expect her to build the furniture for the baby?”

“No, of course not.” Yo-han grits his teeth. “I expect the help I hired. Not him.”

“I’ve been told I was good with my hands, brother.” Yoongi responds, bored. He looks right at you this time, a look that his mother doesn’t miss. 

“Yoongi.”

Yoongi’s eyes advert to his mother. She’s reading him, tilting her head. She did this often in their youth.

“Be sure to not provoke your brother.” his mother says, though there’s something she’s holding back. The obvious (yet not so obvious to Yo-han) elephant in the room. “Yo-han…Yoongi is just helping. That’s what uncles do.”

Yoongi drops his wine glass onto the table with a clank. It startles your nervous eyes upwards to look at him. Yoongi pushes his chair back. “I’ll make my leave now. Mother,” Yoongi bows his head. “Y/N…” he murmurs. He doesn’t want to meet your eyes, but he does. “...let me know if you need anything from me.”

Yo-han snickers, but doesn’t respond.

Yoongi can feel his mother’s eyes on the back of his head as he strolls down the hall. He attempts to keep his posture relaxed, but there’s a deep despair in his stomach. An uncertain feeling of being caught red-handed.

@lula-mei @lover-bts-fairy @pp0810 @slutoru1207 @tokkihalo @kkuniki1816 @ @thelilbutifulthings @avawants2havefun @dream-lover200 @haru-jiminn @investedreader @darkuni63

explicit-tae/trivia-yandere: idk i feel like we can end this here with such suspense :3

[gojover]

the courtship affairs of a common man

summary: nanami kento prides himself on his discipline, efficiency, and ironclad work ethic. you, on the other hand, are a paragon of spontaneity and relentless optimism. as ceo, you’re used to getting what you want—and your next business venture? winning him over.

⇢ pairing: secretary!nanami kento x ceo!fem!reader ⇢ contains: fluff, mild angst, smut (oral sex, desk sex, protected sex, angry sex, slight dirty talk), office romance au, grumpy x sunshine, profanity, alcohol consumption, parental pressure to get married, corrupt corporate companies, implied misogyny—please let me know if i’ve missed anything! ⇢ word count: 17.9k ⇢ art credit: pinterest | read on ao3 here.

Nanami Kento is a man of routine. At precisely 7:26 A.M, he heads out of his apartment with his tie knotted perfectly and his shoes shined. At 7:43 A.M, he reaches the coffee shop he always frequents, and by 7:54 A.M, he walks out with an iced coffee with three shots of espresso (for himself) and a Mocha Cookie Crumble Frappuccino (for you). 

If he drives fast enough, he can clock in at his workplace by 8:28 A.M, and by the time he reaches his desk, it’s 8:31 A.M. He waits patiently for you to arrive sometime between 8:36 and 8:49. Usually, you arrive exactly at 8:45 A.M, and until then, Nanami works on making a list of all the tasks scheduled for today, in order of greatest priority.

It’s when the clock starts inching towards 9:25 A.M and you still haven’t arrived, that Nanami Kento starts to get a little bit worried.

At 9:26 A.M, Nanami finally sets down his pen. He isn’t the type to fidget, nor is he the type to worry unnecessarily, but there’s an undeniable itch in his chest—a quiet, nagging thought that something is off. He checks his watch. Then his phone. No missed calls, no unread messages. Highly unusual.

The drink he bought for you sits untouched on your desk, the condensation already forming a damp ring on the pristine surface. You always take the first sip as soon as you walk in, mumbling some variation of how you need caffeine to tolerate capitalism.

He waits exactly three more minutes before standing.

If anyone notices the way he strides towards the elevator with more urgency than usual, they don’t comment. The building’s lobby is its usual mess of suits and hurried footsteps, but your usual entrance—heels clicking against polished tile, a cheerful “Morning, Nanami!”—is absent.

He exhales through his nose, tilting his head slightly as he debates his next move. Calling you outright would be overstepping. You are his boss. He is your secretary. If you were simply running late, you would text.

That means something must have happened.

Nanami adjusts his tie and makes the call anyway. The phone rings. Once, twice, three times—and then, finally, your voice; groggy and unmistakably hoarse.

“...Nanami?”

He clenches his jaw. “Where are you?”

You pause, followed by a rustling sound, as if you’re shifting under blankets. “Oh, shit.”

“You overslept,” Nanami states.

“Uh,” you say intelligently. “Maybe?”

Nananmi doesn’t sigh, though he wants to. You’re an excellent CEO—brilliant, quick-witted, sharper than most people twice your age. But responsible when it comes to your own well-being? Absolutely not.

There’s more shifting on your end, followed by a muffled groan. “I might be a little hungover.”

“Of course you are.” His glasses have slid down the bridge of his nose, so he adjusts the frame.

“Listen, it was my friend’s birthday—”

“That’s not an excuse.”

“Okay, mother.”

Nanami does sigh this time. He glances at his watch. If he leaves now, he can get to your apartment in twelve minutes, fifteen if traffic is bad. “I’m coming to get you.”

“Wait, what?”

“You’ll waste another thirty minutes trying to function. I’ll be there in twelve.”

There’s a long pause. Then, in a voice that’s entirely too suspicious for someone who just admitted to being hungover, you say, “...How do you know where I live?”

“I fill out your paperwork,” the secretary says.

Another pause. “This feels like an invasion of privacy.”

“You list it under the company address.”

“Well, I could be lying.”

“Are you?”

Silence. Then, begrudgingly, you admit, “No.”

Nanami does not have the time for this. He’s already halfway to the parking garage, briefcase in hand, and his patience—though formidable—is starting to wear thin. “Stay put. Drink some water. Don’t make it worse.”

You hum. “Define worse.”

“Don’t make me regret my employment here.” 

There’s a chuckle on your end before the call clicks off. Nanami shoves his phone into his pocket and fishes for his car keys. The headlights of his white Toyota Corolla blink back at him. He slides into the driver’s seat as quickly as possible and starts the engine.

Nanami Kento does not speed. He is a very responsible driver. Yet, here he is, at 9:41 A.M, speeding towards your apartment because you overslept, are likely still half-drunk, and have a board meeting in less than an hour. Objectively speaking, this should not be his problem. But Nanami has long-since accepted that you are his problem.

There is a margin of error in his schedule now, and he does not like it. His mind is already running through the necessary steps to minimise the damage.

Best Case Scenario (Highly Unlikely): You’re already awake, dressed and hydrated. You recognise the consequences of your actions. You get in the car immediately. The meeting proceeds as planned. (The probability of this happening is about the same as Gojo Satoru from HR filing his paperwork on time.)

Most Likely Scenario (Unfortunate but Expected): You answer the door in your pyjamas. You have not consumed a single drop of water. You groan at him, complain about work, and stall for at least ten minutes. He has to herd you into productivity like a kindergarten teacher. He gets you to the office just in time—barely.

Worst-Case Scenario (God Forbid): You’re still in bed. You refuse to move. You throw up on his shoes (he will quit). You open the board meeting by saying something absurd like, “Gentlemen, what if we invested in a company that just makes really big spoons?” and Nanami Kento gets fired.

He adjusts his tie at a red light. No, he refuses to let it reach that point.

By the time he pulls up to your apartment, he is ready. He checks his watch once more. 9:53 A.M. Nanami forgoes the elevator in favour of climbing up the staircase two steps at a time. Your apartment is on the fifth floor, and he knocks twice. Firm and precise.

The door swings open, and you are—well. Exactly what Nanami had expected.

You’re standing in the doorway wearing an oversized hoodie and what are definitely not your pants. Your hair is a tangled mess, mascara faintly smudged beneath your eyes. Nanami is not a man easily shaken, but this is certainly not how he expected to start his morning.

“You look awful,” he says.

You groan, dragging a hand down your face. “Good morning to you too, sunshine.”

Nanami steps into your apartment uninvited. The place is surprisingly not a disaster, though for a luxury apartment, it does seem a tad bit shabby. An empty wine glass balances precariously on your coffee table, next to a half-eaten slice of cheesecake and—God help him—what appears to be a sequined tiara. 

He chooses not to ask. Instead, he sets his briefcase down, rolls up his sleeves, and heads straight for your kitchen.

You blink. “What are you doing?”

“Fixing this.” He pulls open your fridge, scanning the contents with a critical eye. It is, to his horror, mostly condiments. “When was the last time you ate a proper meal?”

You scratch your cheek. “Um. Last night?”

He shuts the fridge a little harder than necessary. “Cheesecake doesn’t count.”

“Rude. That cake was expensive.”

Nanami ignores you, opting instead to fill a glass of water. He hands it over, watching as you take a slow, reluctant sip. “Drink all of it,” he instructs.

“You sound like my mom,” you say, squinting at him.

“Yes, well, if your mother were here, I assume she wouldn’t have let you drink half your body weight in alcohol the night before a board meeting.”

“Wait.” Your eyes widen. “The board meeting.”

Nanami resists the urge to point out that this should have been your first concern, not the last. “Yes,” he says, “the one that starts in thirty-five minutes.”

You suck in a breath sharply. “I need to shower.”

“Obviously.”

“I don’t have time to do my hair.”

“You’re wearing it up.”

“I don’t have time for makeup.”

“You keep a bag in your office.”

You scowl. “You’re very annoying, you know that?”

Nanami gives you a pointed look, taking your empty glass of water from your hands. “Yes.”

You grumble something under your breath before disappearing into your room, the door clicking shut behind you. Nanami sighs. He takes off his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose, before rolling his shoulders. He deserves a pay raise.

By the time Nanami drags you into the office, you’re at least functioning. He’s made sure of it. He forced you to drink two full bottles of water and a homemade electrolyte mix (which you gagged on); stopped you from wearing a sweatshirt that said Eat the Rich (your argument was that it was thematically appropriate); shoved a bacon, egg, and cheese sandwich into your hands (which you sullenly ate in the elevator, glaring at him the entire time); and silently questioned all of his life choices.

And now, he stands beside you in the conference room, arms crossed, expression stoic, while you sit at the head of the long, polished table, addressing a room full of corporate executives.

To your credit, you’re holding your own. Your voice is even. Your sentences are concise. Your data is accurate. If Nanami didn’t know that you had been half-dead in bed forty minutes ago, he wouldn’t be able to tell.

The board members—a collection of old money, new money, and at least one guy who definitely inherited his position from his father—watch you with varying degrees of interest. Some, like Flower Bandana and Secret Tattoo from Marketing, nod along. Others, most notably, Wire-Rimmed Glasses and Charcoal Pants, pretend to skim the reports in front of them. Nepotism Baby, however, is very obviously checking golf scores under the table.

Nanami clocks all of it. Still, you power through.

“—and as you can see, our projected quarterly growth remains steady despite recent market shifts. However, to maintain momentum, we need to prioritise long-term investments in—” You pause. Nanami notices it immediately—a brief hesitation, a flicker of your fingers against the table.

You’ve forgotten what you were saying.

To the untrained eye, it is imperceptible. To Nanami, who has spent an ungodly amount of time observing you, it’s as obvious as a flashing neon sign. 

Before you can recover, Salt-and-Pepper Board Member—the one who always speaks in a tone that suggests he hasn’t been happy since the Reagan administration—leans forward. “Miss CEO,” he says, adjusting his gold watch, “before we move forward, I’d like to address something.”

“Of course,” you reply smoothly, though Nanami catches the way your hands tense against the table.

Salt-and-Pepper clasps his hands together. “While we appreciate your insights, I have to ask—” a pause, carefully calculated for dramatic effect— “what exactly is your long-term vision for the company?”

The room stills. It’s a trap. A carefully laid, passive-aggressive, MBA-scented trap. Nanami watches you closely. He knows this type of boardroom maneuver—an underhanded way to question your competence without outrightly saying it. Testing the waters to see if you’ll crack, so to speak.

You, as always, rise to the occasion.

“My vision?” you repeat, tilting your head slightly, voice measured. “That’s an interesting question.”

Nanami presses his lips together. He can see the gears turning in your head.

You lean back in your chair, lacing your fingers together. “If I had to sum it up, I’d say my long-term vision is simple: Growth, innovation, and ensuring that this company doesn’t crumble under the weight of its own outdated bureaucracy.”

Salt-and-Pepper’s eyes narrow just slightly. You continue.

“Because let’s be honest, gentlemen—” (Nanami notes how you conveniently exclude the few women in the room; they could do no wrong in your eyes) “—we could sit here, shuffle numbers, and pat ourselves on the back for maintaining the status quo, or we could actually build something for the future. Something sustainable, something adaptive. Something that doesn’t leave us scrambling every time the market shifts.”

Impressive. Nanami hides his amusement behind a neutral expression. You’ve managed to say absolutely nothing while making it sound like you’ve said everything. A skill only a true genius could master. Salt-and-Pepper’s eyebrows pinch. He opens his mouth—likely to challenge you—but before he can, Nanami steps in.

“Further details on our strategic initiatives can be found on page five,” he says, flipping to the appropriate section in the report. “You’ll find that the CEO’s approach aligns with our projected financial goals and ensures continued shareholder confidence.”

Translation: Shut up and read the damn report. Salt-and-Pepper huffs in irritation.

The meeting continues. Charts are analysed. Projections are debated. Wire-Rimmed Glasses tries to poke holes in your marketing budget, only for Secret Tattoo to shut him down with three lines of data and an unimpressed eyebrow raise. Nepotism Baby suddenly develops an interest in the conversation only when someone brings up potential tax incentives.

Throughout it all, Nanami stands beside you like a quiet, immovable force of nature, ready to step in whenever necessary—though, to his silent chagrin, you seem to be having fun.

“You know,” you say, after redirecting a particularly obtuse question from Charcoal Pants, “I was going to bring this up later, but since we’re already on the subject of outdated models—”

Nanami immediately dislikes where this is going.

“—I’d love to discuss our executive compensation structure.”

The temperature in the room drops several degrees. There’s a long, pointed silence. Salt-and-Pepper visibly tenses. Wire-Rimmed Glasses stops pretending to read his report. Charcoal Pants blinks very fast. Nanami sighs. You are testing his patience. He’s not sure what you’re trying to achieve by discussing potential salary cuts to the Board of Directors, but it is too late now, and he is in too deep.

“Compensation structure?” Salt-and-Pepper repeats, as if you’ve just suggested setting fire to the stock portfolio.

“Yes,” you agree. “As you all know, our yearly executive bonuses amount to a significant percentage of our net profits. While rewarding performance is important, I believe we should also explore options that align with our long-term company health.”

One of Salt-and-Pepper’s eyes twitches. “I see. And what exactly do you propose?”

“A more balanced structure. Something performance-driven, sure, but also weighted in a way that ensures we’re reinvesting into the company and our employees. After all, a company is only as strong as its people.”

“That’s a… bold suggestion.” Salt-and-Pepper smiles, but it is a smile in the way a wolf bares its teeth.

“Oh, I know.” You flash him a blindingly fake grin. “But that’s what visionaries do, right? Think boldly?”

The discussion moves forward. The board members clearly have no interest in discussing executive pay cuts, and after five minutes of unproductive back-and-forth, Nanami steps in to smooth things over.

“We can table this discussion for another time,” he offers. “Let’s return to our key agenda items.”

Translation: You are all embarrassing yourselves. Move on. Thus, the meeting drags to an exhausting close. As the last board member exits, the conference room falls into silence. Nanami breathes out slowly. He turns his attention back to you—where you sit, still slumped in your chair, spinning a pen between your fingers. 

You look pleased with yourself. Of course, you do.

“You’re mean,” he says plainly.

You grin, unapologetic. “But you’re still here.”

Nanami presses his lips together, but he doesn’t deny it. You’re right; he is still here. Still standing beside you, still following you through your commitments and obligations, still making sure you don’t self-destruct before lunch, let alone the fiscal year. Still watching.

Nanami Kento isn’t blind to his own habits. He is not a man given to sentiment, nor is he someone who allows himself to be distracted. He has spent years cultivating a certain discipline, a carefully maintained distance between himself and his work. 

Yet, here he is.

Here he is, noticing things. Like the way your fingers tap absently against the table when you’re thinking. The way you tilt your head ever-so slightly when someone challenges you, as if already preparing a rebuttal. The way you wield charm and sharp wit like a weapon, disarming a room full of men who think they can rattle you.

Here he is, memorising things. Like the exact cadence of your voice when you’re amused versus when you’re irritated. The way you argue, not just for the sake of arguing, but because you genuinely believe things should be better.

Here he is, wondering things. Like why the sight of you so thoroughly holding your own in that room makes something in his chest feel curiously, infuriatingly warm. 

He shouldn’t. He shouldn’t worry about you, shouldn’t be so aware of the way your presence has begun to take up space in his thoughts.

Nanami isn’t sure when it started. Maybe it was the first time you dragged him into a fight you had no business winning, arguing down a board member twice your age with nothing but facts and deduction. Maybe it was the morning you shoved a coffee into his hands without preamble, grumbling something about corporate capitalism slowly draining the life out of him. Maybe it was when he realised that despite your recklessness, despite your exhausting tendency to push every limit—

You were trying. 

Maybe that’s why he stays. Not because you’re impossible. Not because you test his patience on a daily basis, but because, despite it all, Nanami believes in you. Maybe—just maybe—that belief is starting to feel like something else entirely.

He clears his throat, shaking off whatever momentary lapse has settled over him. “Your next meeting is in fifteen minutes,” he says, already turning towards the door. “Try not to fall asleep before lunch.”

“No promises,” you call after him, and Nanami forces himself not to look back.

The next morning, you arrive at 8:45 A.M on the dot, and though you don’t greet Nanami with a chipper good morning wish, you do shove a neatly-wrapped roll of melonpan into his arms. 

“For yesterday,” you explain. “Thanks for picking me up even though it’s not a part of your job.”

Nanami stares at the melon bread in his hands. It’s soft, and still warm, wrapped in crinkly butter paper. For a moment, he simply blinks at it, as if it’s some kind of foreign object, something misplaced in the orderly structure of his morning routine. (It is.) 

Then, he looks at you. You’re already at your desk, halfway through flipping through a manila folder, scanning through documents with your brows furrowed in concentration. But Nanami catches it—the way your fingers loosely hold the paper, the way your shoulders aren’t as stiff as they were yesterday. It’s an offering—but more than that, it’s you remembering, because the name of the bakery printed on the butter paper is his favourite one.

He sets the melonpan carefully on the desk beside his coffee. “It was never not part of my job.”

“Huh?” Your head snaps up.

“Looking after you.”

Your brows knit together in something Nanami recognises as your default setting: Suspicion. “That’s not in your job description.”

“It should be,” he says, shrugging.

Your expression flickers—just for a second—before you roll your eyes. “Great. So I’ve officially become a liability. Good to know.”

“You’ve been a liability since day one.”

“Wow. You’ve been holding onto that one, huh?”

“I’m simply stating facts.” Nanami picks up the bread, breaking off a piece, and takes a bite. The outer layer of cookie dough is crisp, and it melts on his tongue with just the right amount of sweetness.

Your lips press together, like you’re trying to fight off a smile. “So?”

Nanami chews, swallows, and nods once. “Acceptable.”

“Oh, shut up. You love it.”

He says nothing, merely covers up the bread with the butter paper once more and places it next to his coffee once more. You look pretty today, he thinks. You’ve recovered from yesterday’s series of meetings. You’re smiling more. It might turn out to be a good day after all. Nanami doesn’t allow himself to linger on the thought. He reaches for his coffee, taking a sip, while you return to your documents, flipping a page with a little too much force.

“You have a meeting at ten,” he reminds you.

“I know.”

“And a working lunch with Legal.”

You make a noise of protest. “Not the suits. Again.”

“They have concerns about the expansion,” Nanami says mildly.

“They always have concerns.” You sigh, tilting your head back against your chair. “I swear, they enjoy making my life difficult.”

Nanami hums noncommittally. It’s not an argument he’s inclined to entertain—mostly because he knows you’ll win, and you’ll be smug about it. Instead, he glances at his watch. “You have exactly ten minutes before the executive team starts pestering me about your whereabouts.”

You make a face, dropping your folder onto your desk with a soft thud. “Can’t I just—skip?”

Nanami gives you a look. You groan and stretch your arms above your head, letting out a soft sigh before reaching for your pen. He watches as you jot something down in the margins of your notes. You’re still tired, he realises. Maybe not visibly, not in the way you were yesterday, but he sees it. The way you rub your temple when you think he isn’t looking, or the way your posture shifts just slightly when you exhale. It’s ridiculous, really, how attuned he is to you.

He clears his throat. “I rescheduled your two-thirty to tomorrow.”

You blink at him. “Why?”

“Because you’ll need the break.”

You purse your lips, considering this, and for a second, he thinks you’ll argue. But then, to his quiet surprise, you nod. “...Okay.”

The ten o’clock meeting is exactly as tedious as Nanami expects it to be. The executive team drones on about projections and budget allocations, with at least three separate tangents about “synergy” and “maximising operational efficiency.” Nanami watches as you nod along at all the right moments, feigning interest while you fiddle with your pen. He knows you’re not actually absorbing any of it—your attention is already elsewhere, likely preoccupied with the looming meeting with Legal. 

(He knows this because, at one point, you doodle a tiny stick figure on the margins of your notes. When the CFO asks for your thoughts, you barely miss a beat before delivering a perfectly rehearsed response.)

When the meeting ends, he follows behind you. You stretch discreetly, rolling out your shoulders, and when you glance at him, your expression is a silent plea for mercy.

Nanami sighs. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you expect me to spare you from your next obligation.”

“But you could,” you say, all mock innocence.

“I won’t,” he answers.

You heave a sigh. “You’re heartless.”

“I’m efficient.”

“Same thing.”

“You have twenty minutes before your next meeting,” Nanami says instead. “Eat something.”

“Okay, boss.”

Your secretary rolls his eyes. “You’ll thank me later.”

You do, albeit reluctantly. The legal team’s working lunch is predictably dull, full of jargon and contingency plans and hypothetical risks that you pretend to take notes on. At some point, you throw Nanami a look so filled with unspoken suffering that, if he were a softer man, he might have pitied you. 

See? your expression seems to say over the rim of your coffee cup, eyes flat with boredom. This is my suffering.

Nanami lets his mouth twitch upwards. You’ll survive.

You don’t know that. You narrow your eyes at him.

You do survive—just barely—through an hour of suffocating legalese, sitting through discussions on compliance policies and liability frameworks with a blank notepad and polite nods. You haven’t written anything down except Help me in the margins, which Nanami had caught a glimpse of when you’d shifted the notepad slightly. When the meeting finally, mercifully, ends, you slump back in your chair, stretching your legs out beneath the conference table with an exaggerated groan.

“I deserve a reward for making it through that,” you mutter.

Nanami flips through his schedule. “Your reward is not getting sued.”

“That’s a terrible reward,” you retort, scrunching your nose.

“It’s an important one.”

“You’re no fun, you know that?” you say, but there’s no real bite to it. Just annoyance, not directed at him.

“I do,” Nanami says, without missing a beat.

You huff a soft laugh, shaking your head before pushing yourself to stand. He follows suit, gathering his notes. It’s only when you step out of the conference room that he notices it again—the way your fingers tap absently against your arm, the slight crease in your forehead.

You’re preoccupied. Not just with work—no, he’d recognise that kind of stress easily. This is something else.

Nanami doesn’t pry. He never does. If you wanted to talk about it, you would. But when you step into the elevator and don’t immediately pull out your phone or launch into complaints about Legal, he speaks before he can stop himself. “What’s on your mind?”

You turn to him, mildly surprised. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve been distracted all morning,” he says evenly.

“It’s nothing serious,” you say, a little softer than usual. “Just… something personal.”

That’s more than he expected you to admit. Nanami nods. He doesn’t push further or demand an explanation, but he asks, “Do you need anything?”

“I—” Your fingers still against your arm. “No. I’m fine.”

Nanami Kento doesn’t believe in prying. He’s spent years making sure the lines between professional and personal stay intact, clean and neat. You, however, have spent just as long ignoring those lines completely. He could leave it at that. Should, probably. It’s not his place to push, not when you so rarely let people in. But the problem is, he knows you too well—or, at least, better than most. He knows you well enough to recognise when you’re on the verge of running yourself into the ground, or to see through the half-hearted distractions you use to keep yourself from thinking too much.

The elevator doors slide open, and you step out first, wringing your hands like you’re physically squeezing out whatever was on your mind. He doesn���t comment when you pick up your pace, diving headfirst back into work as though you were never distracted in the first place.

It’s strange, he thinks, this feeling that lingers in his chest as he watches you settle back behind your desk. He’s always known his role in your life. He’s your secretary, your buffer against boardroom politics, the person who keeps your world running just a little more smoothly. He arranges your meetings, reorganises your schedule, and reminds you to eat when you’re too caught up in your work to remember.

Still. 

There are moments like these—moments where the boundary blurs, where the concern twists into something deeper. Moments where he finds himself wanting to do more than just keep you organised. 

It’s a dangerous thought, one he has no business entertaining, so he doesn’t.

Nanami Kento is not a morning person. He is, however, a responsible person, which means he is usually awake at a reasonable hour, even on weekends. Today is no exception.

His apartment is quiet, save for the rhythmic ticking of the clock on the wall—the minute hand inches towards 7:42 A.M—and the occasional rustle of a turning page as he reads. A fresh cup of coffee sits within reach, steam curling lazily into the air. It’s black, strong, and exactly the way he likes it—no unnecessary sweetness, no frills. This is how he prefers to spend his time off: A slow morning, a good book, and silence.

Then his phone buzzes. Nanami glances at the screen, frowning slightly at the name that appears. You. He sighs, already feeling a headache coming on. Nothing good ever comes from you calling him on a weekend. Or at all, really. 

Still, he picks up. “What?”

For a moment, there’s nothing but silence on the other end. Then he hears you take in a breath, like you’re working up the nerve to speak. “Hey, um— Are you busy?”

“It’s my day off.” Nanami closes his book and leans back in his chair, his fingers pressing against his temple.

“I know,” you say quickly. Your voice sounds a little different—softer, almost unsure. That alone puts him on edge. He isn’t used to you hesitating. “That’s… actually why I called.”

His frown deepens. He recognises this setup. This is how people sound right before they ask him for something. Nanami shifts the phone to his other ear, already resigned. “What do you want?”

“Okay, first of all,” you say, defensive already, “I resent the implication that I only call you when I need something.”

“That is the only time you call me.”

“...Okay, fine. That’s fair.”

Nanami sighs again. He swears he isn’t the sighing sort of person, but you seem to bring out sides of him he never knew existed. “What is it?”

There’s another pause, longer this time. He hears the faint sound of movement—maybe you shifting your weight, maybe you fidgeting. He almost rolls his eyes. 

“There’s a flea market today,” you say, but there’s something different about the way you say it. Your voice is notably quieter, almost hesitant. “I, um… I wanted to go, but I don’t really have anyone to go with.”

Nanami stills. You? Hesitant? You, who has no problem bossing him around at work, who never hesitates to demand his time and attention, shy about asking him for a favour? Something about the way you say it makes his chest unfurl with warmth.

“So,” you continue, voice uncertain in a way he isn’t used to, “I was wondering if maybe you’d wanna come with me?”

Nanami doesn’t answer right away. He could say no. In fact, he probably should say no. It’s his day off, and he has no interest in spending his weekend surrounded by noisy crowds, looking at secondhand trinkets he doesn’t need. 

He exhales, already regretting this. “What time?”

“Be ready in an hour?” you ask hopefully. “Dress casual. But, like, not too casual.”

“I’m hanging up now,” he says.

“Wait—”

Nanami places his phone down on the table and stares at his coffee like it has personally betrayed him. How did this happen? One moment, he’s enjoying his peaceful morning. The next, he’s been roped into spending his day off at a flea market. It’s fine. He can handle this. He just needs a plan.

Best Case Scenario (Highly Unlikely): You’re already waiting outside when he arrives. You haven’t made any impulse purchases within the first ten minutes. You respect his personal space. You finish browsing in a reasonable amount of time, and Nanami returns home with his sanity intact. (This is about as likely as Gojo Satoru from HR suddenly developing the ability to stay awake for longer than five minutes during important meetings.)

Most Likely Scenario (Unfortunate but Expected): You’re ready, but you’re too excited. You get distracted by every shiny object at the market. You see a vintage typewriter and suddenly develop an unrealistic dream of becoming a novelist. You haggle dramatically over an item that costs the same as a cup of coffee. He ends up carrying all your bags.

Worst-Case Scenario (God Forbid): You’re waiting outside, but you’ve already made three online purchases while waiting. You spot a tarot card reader and decide he needs his fortune told. You find a vintage sword and somehow convince him to buy it. He loses you in the crowd and considers leaving you there. He doesn’t. (Unfortunately.)

Nanami arrives exactly on time, at 8:42 A.M, dressed in a dark olive button-up with the sleeves neatly rolled to his elbows, paired with well-pressed slacks and his usual leather shoes. His watch glints under the afternoon sun as he adjusts his glasses, scanning the crowd until his gaze lands on you.

You’re waiting near the entrance, shifting your weight from foot to foot with barely contained excitement. You’re wearing a breezy sundress, the colour bright against your skin. A canvas tote hangs from your shoulder. You rock onto your toes when you spot him, waving as if he might somehow miss you in the small crowd. Nanami sighs. You look pretty, he thinks, but when has he ever not thought so?

Just like that, Nanami Kento finds himself being led—against all better judgement—towards the market, where the streets are lined with stalls draped in colourful awnings, and the scent of saffron and cherries mingles in the air. Vendors call out their wares, old books are piled up in uneven stacks on wooden crates, and delicate silver necklaces and earrings gleam in glass cases. Somewhere, a musician plays a soft tune on a violin, the notes drifting through the air like the slow unraveling of a ribbon.

You walk slightly ahead, turning back every so often to ensure Nanami is still there, as if he might bolt at the first opportunity. How stupid of you. As if he’d go anywhere else. The man doesn’t miss the way your shoulders are loose, the way you no longer hold tension in your frame like a coiled wire. This is why weekends exist, he supposes.

When you reach a stall selling secondhand books, you stop abruptly. “See? This is nice,” you say, running a finger along the worn spine of a novel. “Better than sitting in a meeting with Legal.”

Nanami hums. His gaze is on you. You pick up a book with a cracked leather cover, flipping through its yellowed pages. Then, suddenly, you turn to him, holding it up.

“Tell me,” you muse, lips curving. “Have you ever been wooed in a flea market before?”

He blinks. “I don’t think so.”

You clear your throat and read aloud: ‘...and he regarded her with a most admiring countenance, struck by the quickness of her wit and the sharpness of her tongue…’

Nanami crosses his arms as you hold the book open like a scholar about to present a groundbreaking thesis. The corners of his lips twitch, but he schools his expression into something neutral. “Is that so?”

You nod solemnly. “A most admiring countenance,” you repeat, tapping the page. “That’s what it says. I think that’s a very poetic way of describing how you look at me all the time.”

He looks at you, ready to say something horrifically stupid, probably, but then you grin, mischief shining in your eyes, and he shakes his head with a quiet sigh. “You do realise that’s from a romance novel.”

“Oh, I’m very aware. I just thought, maybe, if I read enough passages, you might be so swept away by the romance of it all that you’ll fall madly in love with me.”

There it is. That ridiculous, absurd, entirely unserious thing you do—teasing him just enough to see if you can get a reaction. Nanami knows this game well.

“Hm.” He tilts his head slightly, his voice even. “And if I say it’s working?”

You blink. For once, you don’t have a quick-witted reply. Your fingers tighten around the book as you search his expression for something—anything—to indicate that he’s joking. But Nanami is frustratingly unreadable, his gaze steady, the sunlight catching the sharp planes of his face.

You shift, looking back at the book. “Then I’d say I need to find more material,” you mumble. “Something more compelling.”

He chuckles, amused at the way you retreat when met with your own words. “Of course.”

You huff, flipping through the pages again. He watches as your fingers dance over the old paper, as you scan each line with an almost childlike curiosity. There’s a sort of reverence in the way you handle books, as if each one holds a tiny universe inside. Nanami understands. He takes a step closer, just enough to catch the scent of your perfume—light, familiar. You’re so engrossed in your search that you don’t even notice. 

“This one’s nice,” you murmur, tapping another passage with your fingertip before reading it aloud. “‘To be looked at with such devotion… it is a wonder she could bear it at all.’ Sounds familiar, doesn’t it?”

Nanami doesn’t say anything. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his wallet. 

You brighten instantly. “So you are being wooed.”

He hands over a few bills to the vendor without acknowledging your comment. “Just buy the book.”

You chew on the inside of your cheek, barely holding back a laugh, before placing the book inside your tote bag. Your fingers brush against his briefly—just the lightest touch, gone too soon. The transaction is done, and the book is safely tucked away, but Nanami doesn’t know why his mouth suddenly feels too dry, or his clothes feel too warm.

“You’re a very easy target,” you say, tilting your head up to look at him.

“Enlighten me.”

“Well, for one, you act all stern and no-nonsense, but you just bought a book because I read one romantic passage out loud. That, Nanami, is the behaviour of a man who is, against his better judgement, deeply susceptible to my charm.”

Nanami doesn’t dignify that with a response. Instead, he turns and starts walking down the narrow aisle between the market stalls, knowing full well that you’ll follow. You fall into step beside him. “Hey, I wasn’t done talking.”

“I know.”

“You’re so rude.”

“You’ll live.”

You roll your eyes and he lets you get distracted by the next few stalls—one selling mismatched ceramic mugs, another displaying old postcards with faded ink scrawled across them. You pause at a stall selling silver jewelry, fingers trailing over delicate rings arranged on a velvet-lined tray.

Nanami watches, hands in his pockets, as you try on a ring, twisting it around your finger before putting it back. “Not getting one?” he asks.

You shrug. “I don’t know. I like the idea of having one, but I don’t think I’d wear it often enough to justify it.”

He glances at the tray, his gaze settling on a simple silver band. He briefly considers buying it for you, but the thought unsettles him for reasons he doesn’t want to examine too closely. He says nothing and waits for you to move. 

You wander through the market together, stopping here and there—laughing when you find a truly heinous painting of a cat, nudging Nanami when you spot a tarot reader just to see his reaction, groaning dramatically when he refuses to let you buy a vintage sword. (He doesn’t trust you with a sharp object. This is a reasonable stance, he thinks.)

By the time the afternoon sun hangs high, painting the streets in gold, Nanami finds himself carrying a small bag of your purchases despite his earlier aversion—not because you asked, but because, without thinking, he took it from you when your hands were full, and somehow, neither of you mentioned it.

Nanami Kento is brushing his teeth, already halfway through his night routine, when his phone buzzes against the bathroom counter. He considers ignoring it—nothing good ever comes out of late-night calls—but then he sees your name flashing on the screen, again. He closes his eyes. He spent half the Saturday with you at the flea market. It’s a Sunday night, and he’s already thinking about the miserable Monday morning waiting for him. He doesn’t need whatever nonsense you’re about to tell him. Still, he picks up the phone.

A sigh leaves him, muffled by the toothbrush in his mouth. He spits, rinses, and presses the call button. “What?”

“Nanami,” you say, pathetically slurred.

“Oh, for God’s sake.”

“No, listen, listen,” you insist, voice wobbly. “I have—a problem.”

“Of course, you do,” Nanami says. “Where are you?”

“At home.” There’s a rustling sound on the other end, like you’re rolling around on a couch, or maybe tangled up in a blanket that you don’t have the coordination to escape from. “I made it home all by myself. I think that’s really impressive. You should say you’re impressed.”

“I’m not.”

“You’re so mean,” you whine. Then, lower, in a voice so pitiful he almost snorts, “I think I’m dying.”

Nanami checks the time. 10:34 P.M. He should tell you to drink some water and go to sleep. He should just hang up. From the other end of the line, you let out a tiny, miserable noise. It’s barely a sniffle, more like a small whimper of distress—pathetic, and fleeting, but it sits wrong with him. He stands there for a moment, staring at his own reflection in the bathroom mirror, waiting for the irritation to take over. It never does.

Instead, his eyebrows furrow in something that isn't quite a frown, but close enough. Then, he grabs his coat. If he leaves now, he can reach your apartment in twelve minutes, fifteen if traffic is bad.

Your apartment is unlocked when he gets there. Nanami pushes the door open, stepping inside and toeing off his shoes. He barely has the time to take in the mess—your shoes kicked off in two completely different directions, your bag lying lifeless in the middle of the floor, clearly dropped mid-stride—before you come stumbling out of the kitchen, gripping a glass of water like it’s the only thing keeping you tethered to this world.

“You came,” you breathe, eyes wide. “My saviour.”

He frowns. “Why is your door unlocked?”

You wave a hand, dismissive. “It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine.”

“Why are you mad?” You blink at him, wobbling slightly where you stand, and tilt your head like he’s the one being unreasonable.

Nanami presses his lips into a thin line. Instead of answering, he reaches out to flick you on the forehead. You yelp, nearly dropping your glass. “That’s for being careless.” He folds his arms. “How much did you drink?”

“Mm. Enough.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Enough to want to die, but not enough to actually die,” you clarify, solemn. “Does that help?”

“No.”

You snicker at his flat tone, but it quickly turns into a hiccup. Eyes wide, you slap a hand over your mouth, until you relent and start giggling uncontrollably. Nanami watches you, expressionless. He has never been more tired in his life.

Without another word, he moves past you and into your kitchen. “Sit down. I’ll make you something to sober up.”

“I don’t wanna sober up,” you whine, trailing after him.

He eyes you critically, pulling open a cabinet in search of honey and ginger. “What’s your excuse for getting drunk this time? Another friend’s birthday party?”

You snort. “Don’t be silly, Nanami. You’re the only friend I have.”

He stills. You blink at him, swaying slightly. He ignores the warmth creeping up his cheeks, and tells you to sit down before you fall over. You huff, but oblige, dragging a chair out and collapsing into it. Your head flops onto the counter, cheek squished against the cool surface. “You’re kinda good at this,” you mumble.

Nanami doesn’t bother looking at you as he fills the kettle. “It’s just tea.”

“No,” you say, voice thick with something close to admiration. “Like. Taking care of people.”

His hands still for a fraction of a second before he returns to slicing ginger. He doesn’t acknowledge your words, but something in his chest twists. It’s not like it’s hard to take care of you—you stumble through life with the kind of reckless abandon that practically demands someone step in before disaster strikes. He glances at you. Your arms are folded under your head, body lax, but your eyes are distant, slightly unfocused.

He asks, “What happened?”

You blink sluggishly, turning your head just enough to look at him. “Huh?”

“You don’t drink like this for no reason,” he says. “What happened?”

Your lips purse. You look like you’re debating whether to brush him off or tell him the truth. Then, with a hiccup and sniffle, you mumble, “My parents want me to get married.”

“What?” 

Your nose wrinkles, like the very thought is giving you a headache. “It’s stupid,” you grumble. “They want me to meet some guy, settle down, be stable or whatever. Like that’s something I can just do.” You lift your head slightly, eyes glassy, lower lip wobbling. “I don’t wanna get married.”

Nanami swallows. There’s something painfully childlike in the way you say it, as if you’re afraid of being forced into something you can’t escape from. Your face is flushed from the alcohol, but your expression is unguarded. He could be rational about this—tell you that you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, that it’s your life. But he knows that’s not what you need right now.

Instead, he reaches out, pressing his palm against the top of your head, warm and steady. He hears your sharp intake of breath.

“You don’t have to get married if you don’t want to,” he says, voice quiet but firm. “No one can make you.”

You stare up at him, wide-eyed. The room is still. The only sound is the quiet whistle of the kettle coming to a boil. Then, like a switch has flipped, you sniffle, rubbing at your nose with the sleeve of your sweater. “You’re so nice to me, Nanami.”

“I really am.”

“I should marry you,” you say seriously.

He pulls his hand back immediately. “Absolutely not.”

“Why?” you say, lips quirking into a lazy grin. “You afraid you’d fall in love with me?”

Nanami levels you with a flat look. “I’m afraid you’d forget that we ever got married in the first place.”

You cackle, unbothered, and he shakes his head, exasperated. The kettle clicks off. Nanami turns back to the counter, pouring the hot water into a mug. He stirs in the honey and hears you sigh behind him.

“I mean it, though,” you say, softer now. “I don’t wanna get married. Not to someone I don’t love, or ‘cause my parents think I should.”

Nanami glances at you over his shoulder. Your face is half-hidden behind your arms again, but your eyes are clearer now, a little more serious despite the alcohol buzzing through your system. He walks over, setting the tea down in front of you, and says, “Then don’t.”

You blink up at him again. He nudges the mug towards you, and you wrap your hands around it, staring down at the amber liquid. 

Nanami inhales slowly. “Now drink your tea and go to bed.”

You hum, blowing gently on the surface before taking a sip. Then, peeking up at him through your lashes, you say, “Will you stay?”

He hesitates. It’s late. He has work tomorrow. You have work tomorrow. But when he looks at you—tired, drunk, a little lost—he knows he won’t be able to leave until he’s sure you’re okay. “...I’ll stay until you fall asleep.”

You smile sleepily, satisfied, and take another sip of your tea.

The board votes. 

Salt-and-Pepper calls it. Wire-Rimmed Glasses raises his hand first, the corporate equivalent of a teacher’s pet. Charcoal Pants follows, though his fingers twitch with uncertainty. Nepotism Baby—who has been thoroughly checked out for the past forty-five minutes—glances up from his phone just long enough to nod vaguely before going back to whatever meaningless app he’s scrolling through. Nanami watches you from the corner of his eye. You don’t move.

Salt-and-Pepper looks pleased. “Well, that’s that. We’ll move forward with drafting the initial—”

“Wait,” Secret Tattoo from Marketing cuts in. “Are we seriously doing this?”

Salt-and-Pepper’s eyebrows rise, as if he hadn’t expected resistance. Foolish of him. “Is there an issue?”

An issue? Oh, where to begin. Your fingers drum once, twice, against the table. “Zen’in Industries.” You say it like you’re testing the words, rolling them around in your mouth to see if they taste any less like poison. “That’s the best we could do?”

Wire-Rimmed Glasses adjusts his frames. “They’re the most viable partner given the timeline.”

“That’s debatable.”

“The most viable approved partner,” Salt-and-Pepper clarifies. “We’ve reviewed the alternatives.”

“You reviewed them wrong,” Flower Bandana mutters under her breath.

Secret Tattoo leans back in her chair, arms crossed. “I don’t like it either.”

“This decision was made with careful consideration,” Salt-and-Pepper says. His left eye twitches, and he turns back to you. “Miss CEO, while I understand your concerns, business decisions must be made pragmatically, not emotionally.”

Translation: Suck it up and sign the damn papers.

You tilt your head. “Right. And pragmatism is why we’re aligning ourselves with a company whose leadership has been, let’s see, sued five separate times in the last decade for fraudulent business practices, labour violations, and—oh, my favourite—potential ties to organised crime?”

Wire-Rimmed Glasses clears his throat. “Those cases were dismissed.”

“They barely avoided a federal indictment,” you say.

Nepotism Baby suddenly chimes in. “Zen’in’s big. They’ve got resources.”

Nanami resists the urge to sigh. Yes, genius, that’s how companies work. You shoot the boy an unimpressed look, and say, “They also have a history of—how do I put this politely—being absolutely terrible.”

Charcoal Pants shifts uncomfortably. “That’s a bit—”

“Am I wrong?”

Secret Tattoo raises a hand. “Would now be a bad time to remind everyone that they also had an entire warehouse shut down for safety violations?”

“That was an isolated incident,” Wire-Rimmed Glasses says.

“Was it?” you ask. “Because my notes say it happened twice.”

Nepotism Baby leans towards Wire-Rimmed Glasses. “Wait. Twice?”

Salt-and-Pepper clears his throat. “Miss CEO, I assure you—”

“No, really, help me understand.” You lean forward, elbows on the table. “Because last I checked, we weren’t in the business of giving ethics violations a seat at our table.”

“This partnership will allow us to expand at a rate we can’t achieve alone.”

“Uh-huh. And remind me again, what’s the exact rate we’re aiming for? Because if you’re simply going to say something like, faster than usual, I feel like there are other ways to do that. Like, I don’t know, hiring more people. Investing in R&D. Not selling our souls to a family that definitely has bodies buried somewhere.”

Nepotism Baby looks even more alarmed. He leans back towards Wire-Rimmed Glasses. “Wait. Bodies?”

“Metaphorically,” Charcoal Pants says weakly.

You click your tongue. “Probably.”

“The decision has been made.” Translation: Sit down and deal with it. Salt-and-Pepper’s patience has officially run out. Flower Bandana shakes her head. Secret Tattoo mutters under her breath about corporate bootlickers.

Your fingers curl around the pen in front of you. Nanami, ever the observer, sees it immediately—the way you stiffen, the way your expression shutters, before you school it into something blank. “Fine,” you say coolly. “If that’s what the board wants.”

Salt-and-Pepper nods, pleased. “I’m glad we could come to an understanding.”

The meeting adjourns. The board members leave. Salt-and-Pepper sniffs condescendingly in your direction before stepping out. Nepotism Baby stretches, lets out an obnoxiously loud yawn, and wanders off. Charcoal Pants moves quickly, as if afraid you might call him back, and Wire-Rimmed Glasses follows him. One by one, they filter out, until the conference room is empty, save for you and Nanami.

Your fingers uncurl from the pen you’ve been gripping so tightly that there are deep grooves in your skin. You set it down. Tilting your head back, you stare at the ceiling for precisely three seconds before letting out a single, humourless laugh.

“Well.” Your voice is calm, but only barely. “That was fucking awful.”

“You handled it well,” Nanami says.

You let out a breath, somewhere in between a scoff and a sigh. “I shouldn’t have had to handle it in the first place.”

That’s fair, he thinks. You drag a hand down your face as if trying to smother the frustration bubbling just beneath your skin. It doesn’t work. “I knew they’d pull something,” you mutter, “but Zen’in? Of all the goddamn companies in the world, they want them?”

“It’s a strategic decision.” He knows it’s not what you want to hear, but he says it anyway. 

You drop your hand and turn to him. “Say that again, and I’ll replace you.”

“I’m only pointing out the obvious.”

You sigh, but don’t argue. You both know the board sees nothing but numbers, nothing but projections and timelines and carefully-worded justifications. They don’t care about anything outside the bottom line. 

“I don’t want to work with them, Nanami,” you admit.

He already knew that. But hearing you say it—softer now, tired—settles something heavy in his chest. He doesn’t like it. “You won’t do it alone,” he says simply.

Your lips twitch upwards, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “Okay.”

“Okay.”

You study him, searching for something, but whatever you find must be enough, because you sigh and push yourself up from your chair. “Guess we’re stuck with this mess, then.”

“Seems that way.”

“If I’m suffering, then you’re suffering with me.”

“Unfortunate,” Nanami says, but he knows you know he doesn’t mean it.

You guffaw, tension easing—slightly. He can tell it’s still there, simmering beneath the surface. He’s still thinking about it, watching you as you head for the door. He sees the way your jaw is set too tightly, the way your shoulders are stiff. You’re angry. Not just irritated, not just frustrated—angry. It’s not just about the board’s incompetence. It’s Zen’in Industries.

“Let’s get something to eat,” Nanami says.

“God, Nanami. Are you asking me to lunch?”

He stiffens slightly at your teasing, but he doesn’t say anything. He just walks past you, already heading to the elevator. You laugh, falling into step beside him.

At lunch, you pick at a Greek salad with disinterest, stabbing a piece of feta cheese with your fork. The restaurant is a nice place—not overly extravagant, but tasteful in a way that suits Nanami’s particular preferences. He hadn’t put much thought into where to take you. He just needed to get you out of that boardroom. 

Now, though, as he watches you pick apart your salad, he wonders if it even helped.

You roll an olive on your plate with your fork. Across from you, Nanami takes an absent sip of his lime soda, only half paying attention to the taste. The silence is not uncomfortable, but he feels awkward regardless. He should be focused on the partnership, on the logistics, on the long list of ways this shouldn’t be as much of a problem as you’re making it out to be. But instead, his mind drifts.

To you.

To your sharp edges and sharp tongue, to the way your expressions flicker just a little too fast sometimes, as if you’re trying too hard to rein yourself in. To the way you are so painfully aware of everything around you: Every person in a room, every slight shift in tone, every implication buried in corporate jargon.

You are, objectively speaking, a brilliant CEO. Ruthless when you need to be, charming when it suits you, but most of all, uncompromising. Yet, when it comes to this—when it comes to Zen’in Industries—your anger is not just professional. It is personal.

Nanami doesn’t like personal. Personal is messy. Personal gets in the way of logic, of utilitarianism, of clear-cut and efficient decisions.

He tells himself that is why he is still thinking about this. Not because the tightness in your shoulders makes his chest ache. Not because he has never once seen you almost falter the way you did today. Not because he has spent the past half-hour cycling through every possible reason for your reaction and coming up empty.

No, he tells himself, it is because this is a complication he cannot account for, and that is what bothers him.

You press your fork into the olive, just enough to puncture the skin. Then, so casually, you might as well be commenting on the weather, you say, “Did you know that I was in a relationship with Zen’in Naoya?”

Nanami freezes. His brain—normally so methodical, so efficient—comes to a screeching halt. There is no quick calculation, no immediate strategy to deal with this information. There is only the sound of your voice, so stunningly normal in its delivery, juxtaposed against the implication of the words themselves. His grip tightens around his glass of lime side. He doesn’t set it down or react outwardly—but he shifts in his seat.

Zen’in Naoya.

He knows the name well. Anyone even remotely involved in business does. He is a member of the Zen’in family—one of those Zen’ins. A man with power, influence, and a reputation that precedes him. Not for anything good, either. Nanami has never met him in person, but he’s read enough and heard enough to know that he would not want to.

He finally sets down his glass. For once, Nanami Kento does not immediately know what to say.

“Nothing to say?” you ask lightly.

Nanami studies you carefully. You are not looking at him, but he recognises this version of you—the one who pretends you’re fine, who deflects with indifference. The one who would rather fill the silence than allow it to become suffocating. 

“You never mentioned that before,” he says slowly. It is not a question; just an observation.

You attempt to smile, but it comes out more like a grimace. “It never came up.”

Nanami is many things, but he is not stupid. The warble in your voice, the way your fingers tighten ever-so slightly around your fork—this is why you were so angry in the meeting. This is why you stiffened at the mention of the Zen’ins, why you dug your heels in so hard. He should have realised it sooner.

He breathes out slowly. “And now it has.”

“Yes,” you say simply. “Would you like me to tell you about our first date?”

Nanami does not react. He makes sure he sounds neutral when he answers, “No.”

You hum, feigning disappointment. “It was terribly boring, anyway. He took me to some overpriced restaurant with a six-course meal, and every single dish had foam in it.”

Nanami ignores the way his stomach twists at the thought of you on a date with someone like Naoya. It is illogical. Unnecessary. 

“I was nineteen,” you continue. “Very stupid. I thought I knew everything. He was older, and it seemed impressive at the time. He said all the right things. I was easily impressed back then.”

Nanami’s fingers curl against the table. Back then. As if there is a before and after to who you are. He doesn’t like the insinuations of that. “You’re not now,” he says.

“No, I guess not.” For the first time in the conversation you look up at him. Nanami does not look away. You lean back in your chair and say, “So, now you know.”

Now he knows. Nanami doesn’t know what to do with that knowledge. It sits uncomfortably in his mind, wedged there like a stubborn wooden splinter. For now, he does the only thing he can do. He nods, takes another sip of his lime soda, and says, “Eat your salad.”

You laugh. It’s a short huff, but it almost makes Nanami smile.

 “Miss CEO,” one of the Zen’in representatives—a wiry, balding man who sweats too much—says, visibly struggling to remain polite, “surely you understand that our current offer is more than fair.”

“Fair,” you echo, as if testing the word on your tongue. “That’s an interesting way to put it.”

Nanami—who has spent the last three weeks enduring these negotiations—already knows where this is going. He resists the urge to sigh.

“Would you care to elaborate?” Balding Man asks. He keeps his tone professional, but there is an undeniable sense of annoyance in his eyes. Nanami takes a deep breath. You, however, smile.

“Well,” you say. “I just think it’s funny—”

Oh, no. Nanami shuts his eyes for a brief moment, pressing his fingers to his temple. He has heard you say this exact phrase at least five times this week, and every time, what follows is never actually funny. It is, usually, a goddamn nightmare.

Balding Man shifts in his seat. “Funny,” he repeats cautiously.

“Mhm,” you hum. “I just think it’s funny that, in your latest revision, you’ve somehow—” you tilt your head— “conveniently removed the profit-sharing clause we originally discussed. The one your team proposed, by the way.”

“That was an adjustment made to account for—”

“—what, exactly?” you interrupt, leaning forward slightly. “Because as far as I can tell, it was an attempt to quietly slip in a clause that benefits your side while offering absolutely nothing in return. Now, I’m sure that’s just a simple oversight, right?”

Balding Man opens his mouth, then closes it, then opens it again, like a fish flopping around outside water. Nanami watches this unfold with an increasing sense of frustration. 

You are doing this on purpose.

This is not a necessary discussion. The contract could have been finalised two meetings ago, but you have spent the last three weeks turning every single interaction into an exercise in endurance. You nitpick everything. You argue over semantics. You demand last-minute revisions on things that don’t even matter. At one point, you outright rejected a clause you had originally asked for—just to make them go through the process of re-drafting it. 

And because Nanami Kento is your secretary, he has spent most of his time smoothing things over before the Zen’ins lose their patience entirely. It is, frankly, exhausting.

“We can revisit that clause,” Balding Man says tightly.

“Oh, we will,” you say, with a delightfully insincere smile. “In fact, let’s go ahead and set up another review meeting.”

Nanami finally steps in. “That won’t be necessary,” he says, voice clipped.

Your head snaps to him so fast that he almost regrets speaking. Almost. 

“Excuse me?” Your voice is deceptively calm.

Nanami meets your gaze, unwavering. “Dragging out negotiations benefits no one.”

Balding Man exhales, muttering something under his breath. You, however, do not look impressed. Your fingers drum once, twice, against the polished surface of the table. “I wasn’t aware I asked for your opinion, Nanami.”

A sharp silence settles over the room. Nanami’s fingers curl into his palm. You do this all the time. You argue, you challenge, you push every meeting to its breaking point. When things spiral, he’s the one left cleaning up the mess. Now, when he finally intervenes, you’re mad at him? Fine.

Nanami sets his jaw. “I’m only saying what needs to be said.”

The corners of your mouth turn down—just a fraction—before you lean back in your chair. Without looking at him, you say, “Let’s wrap this up.”

Nanami doesn’t allow himself to feel relieved just yet, but at least you don’t push back any further. The rest of the meeting crawls towards a conclusion, with the Zen’in representatives clearly eager to be anywhere else. The moment the last pleasantries are exchanged, Balding Man all but scrambles out the door, leaving you and Nanami alone in the conference room. The silence is razor-thin, stretched taut like a wire about to snap.

“That was productive,” you say, standing up.

He closes the folder in front of him with a controlled snap. “It could have been productive three weeks ago.”

You don’t even look at him. “Tragic, isn’t it?”

He levels you with a stare, but you keep your attention on straightening the cuffs of your blazer, smoothing out imaginary wrinkles. The dismissal is blatant. His patience thins. “You’re making my job harder than it needs to be,” he says.

At that, you finally glance at him. “Then maybe you should stop getting in my way and embarrassing me in front of our collaborators.”

“I’m doing my job.”

“Are you? Because from where I’m standing, it looks more like you’re doing theirs.”

The words are like ice—controlled, but cold enough to cut. Nanami’s fingernails dig crescents into his palm. “You’re dragging this out for no reason,” he says evenly.

You hum, turning towards the door. “If you think that, then maybe you should stick to taking notes instead of giving opinions.”

That stops him in his tracks. You don’t wait for a response. You step out of the conference room without another glance, the steady click of your heels the only sound in the empty hall. Nanami exhales, fingers flexing at his sides. 

You’re shutting him out. If that’s how you want to play, so be it.

It starts with the coffee. Nanami always brings it to you in the morning when he reaches his desk at 8:31 A.M—black for him, a complicated order with enough sugar to kill a lesser man for you. He knows the exact amount of cream that you like, and the precise temperature it needs to be when you take your first sip. But the morning after the meeting, when he sets his cup down on his desk, there’s no second cup. He hears the slight pause in your typing when you notice. A small shift of paper against paper.

“Nanami,” you say.

He doesn’t look up. “Yes?”

“Did you forget something?”

He smooths his tie down over his chest, eyes still on his tablet. “I assumed you wouldn’t need my help with something so simple.”

There’s a long, brittle pause. He knows you’re looking at him. He can feel your eyes upon him from across the room. But he doesn’t glance up, doesn’t shift. Finally, you close the file in front of you with a muted snap and rise from your chair. Your heels click sharply against the floor as you pass him, pausing just briefly at his side. “Hope your schedule’s clear,” you say, voice like glass. “You’ll need to redraft the acquisition proposal by noon.”

“Fine.” His mouth tightens.

He retaliates with paperwork. Nanami knows exactly how to drown someone in administrative hell without breaking a sweat. The next morning, he leaves a neat stack of contracts, memos, and reports on your desk, all unlabeled. He knows you hate that. The revised budget is buried beneath the expense sheets, and the acquisition report—still missing a key section—has no notes attached. He hears the scrape of a chair, followed by the clipped sound of your heels striking the marble floor as you stalk towards his desk.

“Did you think this was acceptable?” you say, tossing the report onto his desk. Nanami’s hands are still on his keyboard. He doesn’t look up. “The section on profit restructuring is incomplete,” you add.

“I assumed you’d prefer to review it yourself,” he says, “since you were so insistent on final approval.”

“Correct it,” you say, voice low. “And put it on my desk by the end of the day.”

Nanami closes his laptop with deliberate care. “Of course.”

Meetings become a war zone. He starts cutting in before you’ve finished speaking. You return the favour without hesitation. One afternoon, during a strategy meeting, he hears you inhale and knows exactly what you’re about to say. “Actually—” he begins.

“I don’t need clarification,” you say flatly, not even looking at him.

“It’s important to avoid miscommunication,” Nanami says. His eyes flick towards you.

Your smile is thin. “Then stop talking.”

Nanami’s mood darkens. Balding Man, sitting across the table, looks like he’d rather fling himself out of the nearest window. Nanami doesn’t care. You’ve made it clear how little you care about his input. If you want to micromanage everything, he’ll stop bothering to clean up your messes.

He starts adjusting your schedule. Meetings appear on your calendar without explanation—overlapping appointments, double-booked sit visits, late-night briefings. At one point, you get a notification for an 8 A.M call with the accounting department, only to find out Nanami cancelled it an hour earlier. You stride into his office. He doesn’t look up from his tablet.

“I thought you handled scheduling,” you say.

“I must have misunderstood your preferences,” he says without inflection. “Since you’ve made it clear that you prefer to handle things yourself.”

You stare at him. He still doesn’t look up. Finally, you scoff under your breath and leave. Nanami watches the door swing shut, something sharp and pointed pressing into his chest.

Lunch becomes unbearable. You still sit together—out of habit, perhaps—but the silence is cutting. Nanami eats his neatly-packed bento with steady, measured bites; you stab aggressively at your pasta, tearing the penne apart like it’s personally offended you. Once, you push your tray an inch towards him and say, “Taste this.”

“I’m allergic to it,” Nanami says, scrolling through some news article on his phone.

“You’re not allergic to chocolate mousse.”

“I could be.”

You make a noise, sharp and irritated, and push the tray away. Nanami doesn’t look away from his phone. He feels the tightness in his shoulders. He hates this. He hates that you’re angry. He hates that he’s angry. Most of all, he hates that he can’t stop himself from pressing harder.

The final blow comes during a boardroom meeting. One of the department heads starts talking in circles, and Nanami—already at the edge of his patience—starts to cut in. “We already—”

“I think it’s important to clarify the terms,” you say smoothly, before he can finish.

Nanami’s gaze snaps to you. His eyes narrow. “There’s no need to clarify anything.”

“Just making sure,” you say, flashing him a bland smile.

Nanami closes his laptop with unsettling calm. You start gathering your papers. His hands curl into his lap. “If you want to manage everything,” he says quietly, “I’ll stop bothering to give input.”

You look at him; your eyes are ice when you say, “Maybe you should,” and walk out without another word. Nanami watches the door shut behind you. He clenches his jaw so hard, it begins to hurt. This is untenable, he thinks.

Nanami hears the clock ticking.

It’s past midnight, and the city outside the office windows glows faintly beneath the dark sky. The only light in the room comes from the soft, sterile glow of your laptops, casting cold shadows across the polished table. His tie is loose around his neck, and the sleeves of his dress shirt are rolled up to his elbows. Across from him, you sit with your laptop open, eyes fixed on the screen. Your hair is slightly disheveled. There’s an untouched cup of coffee beside you, gone cold hours ago.

It’s quiet, except for the sound of typing and the low hum of the air conditioning. Nanami reviews the document in front of him, trying to concentrate, but it proves to be a difficult task when his gaze keeps drifting towards you. He observes—the tightness in your jaw; the slight furrow of your brow; the way your fingers tap a little too hard against your keyboard. He knows you’re frustrated. You’ve been frustrated for weeks. So has he.

He hears the sound of a key sticking, followed by an annoyed exhale. “Fucking hell,” you mutter under your breath.

“You should take a break,” he tells you.

“I’m fine,” you snap.

Nanami sets his pen down. “You’re not fine. You’ve been working non-stop for—”

“I said I’m fine.”

He leans back in his chair, arms crossing over his chest. “Yes, clearly. That’s why you’ve been rereading the same page of that draft for the past thirty minutes.”

Your head snaps up. “I’m sorry, are you the CEO now?”

“Are you trying to sabotage your own company?”

“Oh, fuck off, Nanami.”

“Gladly,” he bites out, closing the folder in front of him. “Maybe then you can stop wasting my time.”

Your chair scrapes loudly against the floor as you push back from the table. “I’m sorry I’m such an inconvenience,” you say sharply. “God forbid you actually have to work for a change.”

Nanami’s expression darkens. His hands press flat against the table as he stands. “It’s not about the work. It’s about you actively making it harder for yourself—and for me.”

“And here I thought handling me was part of your job description.”

“I don’t mind doing my job,” he says icily. “I mind when you refuse to let anyone help you and then act surprised when things don’t go your way.”

“Then why don’t you quit?” you say, chin lifting. “If you hate working for me so much, why don’t you just leave?”

“Maybe I should.”

You suck in a breath sharply, shoulders tense, mouth tightening. Nanami knows he’s gone too far. He sees the flicker of hurt in your expression before you smooth it away.

“Do it, then,” you say coldly. “Walk out. It’s not like anyone’s forcing you to stay.”

You are, he wants to say. Because you are, whether intentionally or not. Nanami finds himself drawn to you, like a moth circling a very bright flame. If he was a sunflower, he thinks you’d be the sun. Nanami doesn’t say any of that. He steps towards you, walking around the table until he’s right in front of you. “Don’t—”

“Or what?” You smile, sharp-edged and bitter. “You’ll finally stop pretending to care?”

Nanami’s hands curl into fists. “Stop it.”

“Stop what?” you demand, turning away from him and bracing your hands on the desk. The papers underneath your hands crumple. “Stop trying to make sure my company doesn’t go fucking bankrupt, or stop—”

“I’m trying to help you—”

“No,” you say, breathless with rage. “You know asking for help means I can’t handle everything myself, and—”

“You’re so stubborn,” he says, finally. His heart hammers against his ribs. “You’re impossible to work with right now.”

“I am under pressure!” you yell, whipping around to face him. “You think I’m being difficult on purpose?”

Nanami stares at you, breathing hard. His hands brace against the table to keep from shaking. “Then what the hell is this?”

Your hands are trembling. Your eyes shine with something dangerously close to tears, but you don’t let them fall. “My parents are pressuring me to get married. And on top of that, I’m trying to close a deal with my ex’s company because of my stupid board of directors—never mind the fact that the Zen’ins engage in borderline illegal practices—and I have to sit across their representative and pretend I don’t know Zeni’in Naoya once tried to steal intellectual property from me. And the only person I trusted to be able to help me out has been treating me like a fucking liability.”

Nanami’s breath catches. “I’m not—”

“Then do something, Nanami,” and you sound pleading when you say it, and Nanami’s chest tightens.

You’re an anomaly in Nanami’s perfectly-structured, perfectly-planned out life. He has known this for a while, only he never acknowledged it until now. The thing is, Nanami thrives on order; on logic; on neat, clean lines and predictable outcomes. He works best when things make sense, when he can anticipate every possible outcome and adjust accordingly. He’s built his life around that certainty—disciplined and unwavering.

But there’s you.

You, who he can’t predict. You, who challenges him in every conversation, who barreled into his life with no premonition. You, whose moods shift so easily—stern one moment, playful the next, always just a little out of reach. You, a hurricane in the body of a woman. You, you, you. 

You are the only thing in his life that doesn’t fit into a box. And yet, somehow, you’re the only thing he doesn’t want to let go of. You barreled straight through his rib cage and settled deep down inside his unsuspecting heart, and he does not think he could pry you away, now.

Nanami breathes hard. His pulse is a frantic, erratic thing beneath his skin. It echoes in his ears as he stares at you—eyes flashing, chest rising and falling.

You’re close—close enough that he can see the tremor of your hands where they’re braced against the desk. Your mouth is parted and your breath is unsteady. There’s a flush creeping up your neck, and your eyes—God, your eyes—burn into him like they’re trying to carve him open from the inside out.

Nanami should step back. He knows this. He should take a deep breath and turn away before one of you says something you can’t take back. But his feet feel rooted to the ground. You look at him—really look at him—and whatever thread of control he’s holding onto snaps clean in two.

His hand moves before he can stop it, fingers brushing along the line of your jaw. Your breath hitches. You don’t pull away. He tilts your chin up, his thumb resting just beneath your lower lip, and your mouth opens slightly beneath his touch. His palm is warm, and then his hand slides to the back of your neck.

And then you’re moving—closing the distance between you without hesitation. Your mouth crashes against his, rough and desperate, and Nanami’s hand tightens at the nape of your neck as he kisses you back, hard.

It’s messy. Too fast, and too much. Your teeth catch against his bottom lip, and he exhales harshly, his other hand sliding down to your waist and yanking you forward until there’s no space left between you. Your fingers curl into the front of his shirt; you tug him down to you. His lips part against yours, and you deepen the kiss, all gasping breaths and frantic movements.

Nanami’s head spins. His hand slides beneath your blouse, finding the bare skin at the small of your back, and you shudder. You press closer, and he feels the quick, uneven flutter of your heart where your chest is pressed against his.

You break away first, just barely. Your breath ghosts against his mouth, shallow and ragged, before you lean in and kiss him again—slower this time, softer, but still aching with urgency. Nanami’s hand slips into your hair, his thumb pressing gently behind your ear as your lips part beneath his. You sigh into him.

Nanami knows he should stop. He knows he should pull back before this spirals out of control. But you breathe his name against his mouth, quiet and pleading, and Nanami’s resolve shatters.

He kisses you deeper.

Nanami doesn’t think—he’s past the point of rational thought. His hands slide down the curve of your waist, settling at your hips as he walks you backward, step by step, until the edge of the table presses against the back of your thighs. You’re breathless, flushed, lips swollen from his mouth. He watches your chest rise and fall, watches the slight tremor in your hands where they curl into his shirt.

His hands are on your thighs, lifting you effortlessly onto the polished surface. Papers scatter beneath you, forgotten, as his mouth trails down the column of your throat. His lips are soft, his breath hot against your skin, and you gasp when his teeth scrape lightly over the sensitive spot under your jaw. His hands are firm at your hips, sliding beneath the hem of your skirt as he coaxes your legs apart.

Your hands find his shoulders, clinging. He drops to his knees in front of you. His gaze lifts to yours, golden in the low light of the room. His hands slide down your thighs, spreading them wider, and his mouth curves slightly when he sees the way your breath shudders.

“May I?” he asks, a little bit hoarse.

You nod. “Yes,” you breathe out.

That’s all he needs. His mouth presses to the inside of your knee, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses along the soft skin of your inner thigh. Your head tips back when his lips brush higher, his breath hot against the lace between your legs. He pulls your underwear aside with a tug.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, thumb brushing along your inner thigh. His breath hitches as he watches your slick shine between your folds, already glistening with arousal. His thumb traces the line of your slit, parting you with a slow, teasing drag. “So wet for me already.”

His eyes flick up to meet yours. “Did you need this that badly?”

You open your mouth to answer, but you shudder when his thumb presses against your clit, rubbing a slow, lazy circle. A broken sound escapes you, hips twitching towards his hand. Nanami hums in approval, and says, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

The first stroke of his tongue is slow, like he’s savouring the taste of you. Your thighs twitch, but his hands find purchase beneath them, anchoring you firmly against the table as his mouth works against you. His tongue flicks over your clit, and your hands fly to his hair, fingers tangling in the strands. He groans low in his throat, the sound vibrating against you as his lips close around you and suck.

“Oh, my God—Nanami—”

He hums against you, pleased. His tongue slides down, dragging through your folds before pressing back up to your clit. He’s focused, the same way he is with everything else—this time, though, his only goal is to make you feel good. His fingers flex against your thighs. Your hips jerk, but he presses you down with a firm hand. His mouth leaves you for half a second, just enough time for him to say, “Stay still.”

Then, he’s back on you, tongue sliding over you in slow, wet strokes. His lips close around your clit again, sucking softly before flicking his tongue over it until you’re gasping. Your thighs threaten to close around his head, but his hands keep you pinned open. 

“Nanami—Nanami, I’m—”

His mouth seals over your folds, tongue curling against you just right. Your back arches, a broken moan slipping from your lips. You sag against the table, breathless. Nanami presses one last kiss to your thigh before standing. His mouth glistens.

“Come here,” he tells you, and this time, he’s the one who sounds pleading.

He kisses you, hard and hungry, and makes sure you taste yourself on his tongue. 

Nanami’s breath is ragged when he pulls back. His hands slide down your sides, steady even as his chest rises and falls in quick, shallow breaths. He undoes his belt with one sharp pull, the metallic jingle ringing in the quiet room. The sound makes his cock twitch, already painfully hard from how wrecked you look beneath him—forehead beaded with sweat, lips swollen, legs still trembling from the way he just made you come.

He draws himself out, cock slapping against his abdomen. He wraps a hand around the base, and strokes himself once, slow. His cock is thick and flushed, the head glistening with precome. His jaw tightens. He’s already so close, but he wants to take his time. He wants to savour this—savour you.

“Are you on the pill?” he manages to ask.

You nod, desperate and frantic. “Yes, yes—fuck, please—”

“Bend over,” he says, voice low.

You hesitate for a second, blinking up at him through heavy-lidded eyes. But his hands are already on you, guiding you up and turning you until you’re facing the table. His palm slides down the curve of your back, pressing your forward until your chest is flush against the cool wood. His hand lingers at the nape of your neck, fingers threading through your hair as he leans over you.

“You’ll let me have you like this, won’t you?” His mouth brushes against the shell of your ear. “Spread your legs for me.”

You do, and Nanami’s breath stutters. His hands slide down to your hips, thumbs pressing into the soft flesh there as he pulls you open. His gaze drops to where you’re still slick from his mouth, the sight making his cock ache.

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath.

He lines himself up, dragging the flushed tip of his cock through your folds, coating himself with your arousal. He rubs the head against your entrance, teasing—but he’s barely hanging on himself. His cock throbs, and his grip on your hips tightens.

“Nanami—” you gasp out.

He sinks into you in one slow thrust. The stretch makes him moan, the tight heat of you wrapping around him inch by inch. His forehead drops against the back of your shoulder. He bottoms out, his hips pressing flush against you. “God,” he breathes, voice strained. His fingers curl against your skin, hard enough to bruise. “You’re so—”

He pulls back, almost all the way out, and then thrusts back in. You shudder beneath him. Nanami groans low in his throat. The sound vibrates against your skin as he sets a steady pace, hips rolling into you with each thrust. Each drag of his cock against your walls makes him see white behind his eyes.

“So tight,” he mutters, more to himself than you. His hand slides up your spine, spreading his fingers between your shoulder blades to press you down. His other hand grips your hip hard, holding you still. His cock stretches you open so perfectly that he can barely think straight.

He watches the way you take him—how you flutter around him each time he pulls back, how your legs shake when he thrusts deeper, how your eyes close and your lips part with pretty moans just for him to hear. He wants to see more. He slides a hand down to your front, his fingers finding your clit. He rubs quick circles, and the way you clench around him makes him hiss through his teeth.

“Nanami—” Your voice is wrecked, gasping, breaking.

“I know,” he says through gritted teeth. His thrusts quicken. His chest presses to your back as he leans over you. His mouth finds the side of your neck, and he sucks hard. “Let me—”

You come with a sharp cry, and the way you tighten around him makes his rhythm falter. His cock throbs as he fucks you through your orgasm, dragging out every last tremor. Your walls flutter around him, slick and hot and perfect. Nanami groans against your skin. His thrusts grow shallow and uneven, his breath ragged.

He comes with a low, guttural sound, hips pressed deep as he spills inside you. His hand stays on your hip. He presses his mouth to the back of your neck, groaning.

His breath is still ragged as he carefully pulls out, the feeling of his cum slipping out of you making his chest tighten. He slides a hand down your back, smoothing your hair away from your face as he leans over you.

“Stay there,” he murmurs, his mouth brushing against your shoulder. His voice is soft now, almost tender. “Let me take care of you.”

He tucks himself away, smoothing down his shirt before his hands return to you—lifting you gently from the table and letting you lean into his arms. “Nanami,” you say.

“Yes?”

“We’ve ruined all the contract papers.”

The office feels too quiet the next day.

Nanami sits at his desk, but his mind isn’t on the stack of reports in front of him. His pen hovers over the paper, unmoving. His thoughts drift back to last night. To you.

The way you looked beneath him, flushed with heat and trembling. The way your breath caught in your throat when he touched you. The sound of his name falling from your lips, breathless and perfect. Nanami exhales, trying to clear his mind. He pinches the bridge of his nose, but the memory clings stubbornly to the edges of his mind. His hands curl into fists. He should not be thinking about this—about you.

But it’s impossible not to. Especially when you’re right there.

He hears your voice before he sees you. He hears you let out a quiet laugh from across the room, the sound tugging at his attention like a thread pulled tight. His eyes lift automatically and he finds you standing at your desk, flipping through a folder with that little crease between your brows you always get when you’re focused.

You glance up, your gaze meeting his. Neither of you move, until you give him a small, polite smile and look away.

Nanami grits his teeth. His pen presses hard against the paper as he looks down, trying to will his pulse back to normal. Pathetic, he thinks.

He should be able to handle this. He’s an adult. A professional. He has handled far more serious situations with more composure than this. Every time you walk past his desk, his gaze follows you. Every time you speak, his attention hooks onto your voice like it’s a lifeline. His fingers itch to touch you—to brush a hand along your arm, to tip your chin up and steal a kiss.

It’s getting unbearable.

It’s not just the memories of last night that haunt him—it’s the aftermath. Because you’re acting… normal, and that’s the problem. You greet him the same way you always have. Your smile is the same. Meanwhile, Nanami is fighting for his life every time you walk within ten feet of him.

This morning, you’d handed him a report with your fingers brushing over his. “Morning, Nanami,” you’d said, bright and sweet.

His hand had twitched. “Morning.”

You’d walked off while he sat there, wondering how a simple touch could make him feel like his entire nervous system was short-circuiting. 

But the worst part is that he’s not subtle about it. Not at all. It’s a problem.

Like when you walked into the office this afternoon, holding a cup of coffee, looking pretty in your blouse and trousers. Nanami had glanced up for half a second—and in that half-second, he’d managed to knock his pen holder off his desk.

“Are you okay?” you’d asked, setting down your coffee and crouching to help him.

Nanami had stared at the mess on the floor. “Fine.”

You’d smiled at him, amused. He’d looked away quickly, feeling heat creep up his neck.

Or earlier today, when you had stopped at his desk to ask about a meeting. “Did you get the email from Gojo?” you’d asked, leaning slightly over his desk.

Nanami had blinked at you, his mind immediately spiraling back to last night—the feeling of your body beneath his hands, the way you had gasped when he—

“Nanami?”

“Hm?”

“The email?”

“Yes. Yes, I saw it.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

You’d looked at him for a long moment, eyes narrowing slightly. Then you’d shrugged and walked away. Nanami had exhaled once you were out of sight, rubbing a hand over his face. He’s being so obvious, and that’s unacceptable.

“Nanami, could you grab those papers from my desk?” you ask that evening, glancing over your shoulder as you pack up your bag.

“Of course,” he replies, already standing. His legs carry him towards your desk before he can think better of it.

Your desk is neat, everything in its place—except for the book. It’s placed on the edge, slightly worn from use. He recognises it instantly. It’s the one he bought you at the flea market weeks ago, when you’d read out a few sentences in an attempt to “woo” him. He hadn’t expected you to actually read it.

Curiosity tugs at him. His hand drifts towards the book. The spine gives under his touch, loose—like it’s been held too many times, thumbed through on quiet nights. It falls open easily. There’s a dog-ear marking a specific page. Nanami reads the passage beneath the crease:

‘It hit him all at once, like the sun breaking through the clouds. That the way his chest ached every time he saw her smile was not fear of confusion—it was love. Had always been love. And how foolish he’d been, not to have known it sooner.’

Nanami Kento freezes. His fingers press lightly against the paper. He thinks of the way you smile at him; of the soft, half-lidded look you give him when you’re tired; of the way you always seem to find him first in a crowded room. He thinks of the warmth in your laugh, and the way you lean towards him when you talk, like you don’t even realise you’re doing it.

How had he not known?

His heartbeat stumbles. His gaze lifts to you, across the room.

You’re still packing up, tucking a notebook into your bag. Your brows crease slightly in concentration, the corners of your mouth tugging down. You push a loose strand of hair behind your ear. Nanami swears he forgets how to breathe.

Had you known before he had? Is that why you marked this passage and left it there for him to find? Or had you dog-eared it for yourself—because you had some sort of silly, idiotic hope that it was true?

You look up. Your eyes catch his. You smile—small and soft, easy as breathing. Nanami’s throat tightens. His chest aches in that quiet, unbearable way that’s starting to feel familiar. He sets the book down. You zip up your bag and turn around to the door. His gaze follows you without thinking.

Oh, he thinks, heart pounding. How foolish of me.

It hits him that night, when he’s in bed and thinking about you. You’d said that Zen’in Naoya had stolen your intellectual property once. His eyes widen, and he sits up straight, reaching for his phone that’s charging on his nightstand. He dials in your number.

You pick up after two rings. “...Hello?”

You sound sleepy. When he looks at the time, it’s almost midnight. “Sorry. Did I wake you?”

“Yes, but—” he hears you yawn— “it’s fine. I should savour the occasion, actually. It’s rare that you call me first.”

“Yes, well.” Nanami’s cheeks burn. “I wanted to ask you something.”

“Go on.”

“That night— The night we—” Nanami feels his entire face heat up. “The night we argued,” he settles on. “You mentioned that Zen’in Naoya stole your intellectual property.”

There’s a pause on the other end of the line. He hears you shift, the rustling of sheets punctuating the silence. “That was a long time ago,” you say quietly.

“What happened?” he asks.

“It’s… complicated.”

“I have time,” he says, settling back against the headboard. His hand presses over his mouth, his thumb resting just below his jaw.

“It was when I was still with Naoya,” you say carefully, like you’re trying not to give away too much. “I was working on a pitch for an international partnership. It was something I’d been preparing for months. And I—I made the mistake of showing it to him.

“He said he just wanted to look it over. But then he brought it to his family as his own work. Word-for-word. Even the phrasing in the executive summary was identical.”

“And no one said anything?” Nanami questions.

“People noticed,” you reply. “But it’s the Zen’in family. No one wanted to stir the pot, you know?”

“What happened with the pitch?”

“It tanked. Naoya didn’t bother to prepare for the follow-up meetings. He couldn’t answer half the questions that came up. It was humiliating—for both of us—but I was the one who took the fall. No one was going to take my side over Naoya’s. His uncle’s practically running the whole board. It was easier to let me look incompetent.”

Nanami feels his teeth press together. His free hand curls into a fist against his knee. “You should’ve told me.”

You huff out a laugh. “I didn’t know you at the time, Nanami. All this happened while I was working for the Zen’ins—before my dad retired and handed me his company.”

The Zen’ins hadn’t been circling your company. No, it had been Salt-and-Pepper who brought them in. The timing had been suspicious. The Zen’ins’ reputation is tainted—financial mismanagement, aggressive acquisition tactics, borderline illegal practices. The last thing you needed was to be tethered to a sinking ship.

But Salt-and-Pepper had managed to convince over half of the board of directors. Wire-Rimmed Glasses had been on his side from the start. So had Charcoal Pants and Nepotism Baby, albeit reluctantly. 

“This isn’t just a business deal. Right?” he asks you. He understands, now, why you’d made negotiations with Balding Man—Zen’in Industries’ representative—so difficult. You’d tried to drag it on for as long as you could, trying to stall the deal from going through.

You stay quiet on the other end. Nanami takes that as confirmation.

“Okay,” he says slowly. “Okay. We can figure this out.”

“What are you thinking, Nanami?”

Salt-and-Pepper’s financials. His holdings. Any private deals with Zen’in Industries or overlapping investments. Nanami has access to all of it—board records, meeting minutes, even expense reports. If there is a paper trail, he would find it.

“Do you think,” he says, “you can handle a meeting with Legal tomorrow?”

It happens quickly after that.

Past papers are uncovered. Shady deals surface. It’s almost too easy. Nanami knows how these things work—no paper trail is truly invisible, no backdoor negotiation is as airtight as it seems. People talk, especially when the money starts moving.

Nanami digs through your company’s internal records the next day, tracking down the original licensing agreements for the software framework. The timeline doesn’t add up. Zen’in Industries’ supposed “internal R&D” was completed two months before the initial product proposal had even been drafted. That’s not just suspicious—it’s impossible.

He finds the buried reports: Memos from Salt-and-Pepper’s office, quiet requests to “streamline” the internal approval process. He finds—perhaps most damning of all—a forwarded email chain from Wire-Rimmed Glasses to Balding Man.

Need to close this by Q3. Zen’in Industries’ team will take over full oversight post-merger.

The date on the email reads for two weeks before the first joint meeting had even been scheduled.

He goes to the Accounting department next, via the internal compliance office. Someone from accounting had flagged a discrepancy in the financial statements weeks ago, but it had quickly been buried. There were payments made to an offshore account—small enough to be overlooked at a glance, but steady and consistent. It was linked to a shell corporation in Singapore.

A shell corporation owned by Zen’in Industries.

Nanami doesn’t hesitate. He sends the information to your private office line under encryption. The paper trail is too neat. This wasn’t just about a merger. It was a quiet takeover.

Salt-and-Pepper had gotten sloppy. He had to convince the board to sign over proprietary assets through the collaboration over the new product. Let Zen’in gut the tech. Then quietly dissolve the partnership and walk away with the intellectual property rights. Your company would be left holding the framework—and the financial fallout.

Salt-and-Pepper would walk away with his cut.

You’re surprised to see him when he walks into your office. His tie is askew. His shirt is rumpled. He is not the usual, put-together man he is. How could he be, when your own board of directors was secretly conspiring against you?

“Nanami?” you ask, setting down your bag.

He slides a folder towards you without a word. 

The next day, the partnership with Zen’in Industries is called off, and Salt-and-Pepper is stripped of his position. (Translation: He was fired.)

When Nanami Kento officially decides to ask you out—because he has, officially, let the fact that he’s in love with you sink in—it is supposed to be methodical. He had planned out the worst-case, most likely, and best case scenarios in his head, as he always does.

Best Case Scenario (Highly Unlikely): You say yes immediately, without even pausing. He takes you to that quaint French place he knows you like, and the waiter winks at him approvingly because you’re clearly out of his league. You’re charming (you always are), and he’s witty (for the first time in his life). At the end of the night, when he walks you to your door, you kiss him. It’s perfect. Birds are singing. Angels are weeping. The stock market hits a record high the next day.

Most Likely Scenario (Fortunate and Expected): You blink at him, and then laugh—a little nervous, a little delighted—and agree to go out with him. He takes you to a good restaurant. You order something a little too expensive, but he doesn’t complain. You’re charming (you always are), and he is… passable. He doesn’t embarrass himself. He even manages to make you laugh once or twice. Instead of kissing him at your doorstep, you punch his arm lightly and say goodbye. He fist-punches the air like a teenage boy when you close the door.

Worst-Case Scenario (God Forbid): You reject him. You say you only think of him as a friend and nothing more. He blacks out for approximately five seconds. You stop bringing him melonpan. He stops walking with you to the elevator. He will probably leave the company. Years later, he hears you’re married to someone who’s the complete opposite of him (probably a racecar driver). He dies alone.

(He’s accounting for margin of error, obviously.)

Nanami reviews his options with the same level of focus he usually reserves for quarterly reports and balance sheets. He weighs the pros and cons, considers timing, and factors in your general mood over the past two weeks. You’ve been in good spirits since Salt-and-Pepper’s departure. An excellent sign.

Still, when he finally stands outside your office, his heart is pounding hard enough to disrupt his thought process. Which is utterly ridiculous. He’s a grown man. A professional. He’s closed million-yen deals under pressure, right by your side. There is no reason he should be standing here, debating whether to knock.

The door swings open before he can decide. “Nanami?” you say, blinking at him.

His mouth opens. His mouth closes. He’s completely blank.

You tilt your head. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” he says, except it sounds completely unconvincing. “I wanted to ask you something.”

You give him a curious look, stepping back to let him in. He follows you inside. His heart rabbits inside his rib cage. This is fine. He’s prepared for this.

“You look serious,” you say, sitting on the edge of your desk. “Is this about work?”

“No.” His hands are in his pockets. He takes a breath. He needs to rip the bandaid off. “Would you—” He stops. Closes his eyes. Starts again. “Would you like to have dinner with me? As a date.”

You don’t say anything—not right away. Instead, you snort.

Nanami’s eyes snap open.

You’re covering your mouth with your hand, but it’s not enough to muffle the sound of your increasingly uncontrollable laughter. Your shoulders are shaking with the full-body kind of laughter.

“Are you…” Nanami feels like his brain is short-circuiting. “Are you laughing?”

“Oh, my God,” you wheeze, tipping your head back. “You— You’re asking me out?”

“That is… generally how this works,” he says stiffly. His cheeks prickle with heat.

You dissolve into another fit of giggles. Nanami’s heart sinks. He’s about five seconds away from accepting defeat and leaving the country after changing his identity. 

But then you slide off the desk and point an accusing finger at him, still laughing. “Nanami Kento,” you say, breathless, “do you have any idea how hard I’ve been trying to get you to notice me?”

“...What?”

You groan, wringing your hands together. “I have been trying to get you to notice me for months. You are literally the most oblivious person on the planet.”

Nanami opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. His brain is working overtime trying to process the implications of what you’ve just said.

You hold up a finger. “First of all—the book.”

“The book?” Nanami echoes, very intelligently.

“Yes, the book. The one you bought me at the flea market? You didn’t have to, so I figured you might feel the same way ‘cause you do a lot of the stuff I ask you to do, even though you don’t have to, and no one’s forcing you to. And the time you came over because I was drunk and I called you up and you made me tea and stayed until I fell asleep. And here I was, overthinking everything because I like you so much—too much, probably, and—”

Nanami steps forward, closing the distance between you in two long strides. Your eyes widen slightly as he places his hands on your waist, steady and warm. His thumb brushes the hem of your shirt.

“You,” he says, “talk too much.”

Your mouth opens—to protest, probably—but Nanami leans down and kisses you before you can say another word.

Your breath hitches, and then your hands curl into the front of his shirt. You melt into him. His lips are soft and sure, and the way you sigh into the kiss makes his heart stutter. He feels you smile against his mouth. 

When he pulls back, you’re breathless, a little flustered. But your eyes are bright and happy, and that, Nanami thinks, is always good.

“Oh,” you murmur. “Was that the best case scenario?”

“Birds are singing,” he says. “Angels are weeping.”

“Stock market?”

“Remains to be seen.”

You grin and pull him down for another kiss.

Nanami’s apartment is quiet in the way he likes best. His bedroom is dark, save for the small pool of golden light from the lamp on the nightstand. His bed is warm, and so are you—curled beneath the blankets, your hair spilling over his pillow.

The book he bought you is sitting on the nightstand. There’s a new crease in the spine and a bookmark tucked partway through because he’s been reading it. He never used to care for fiction, but you’d smiled so brightly when he picked it up that now he finds himself reading it when he gets the time.

The mug of honey and ginger tea warms his hands. You blink sleepily when you see him, sitting up when he approaches the bed. Your hair is mussed, and you have a mark on your cheek where you’d turned into the pillow. His heart does that foolish, undignified thing where it stumbles in his chest.

“Tea,” he says, handing you the mug. “Drink.”

You smile when you take it. He sits down on the edge of the bed and watches you lift the mug to your lips. His hand finds your hair almost without thinking, fingers threading through it.

“We’re meeting my parents this weekend. You remember, right?” you ask, resting the mug on your knee.

“Are you turning into my secretary now?”

“No,” you say, and tilt your chin up defiantly at him. “Just so you know, I’m marrying you whether my parents approve or not.”

“Noted,” Nanami says.

“Good.”

“Why are you asking me?”

You shrug, a tad playful. “I don’t know. Thought you might’ve come to your senses.”

He makes a quiet sound—something like a laugh, though softer. “That would be difficult.” His thumb brushes the curve of your cheek. “I lost them a long time ago.”

You smile like that means something. Nanami leans back against the headboard, his arm resting across your shoulder as you tuck yourself into his side. The book is still sitting on the nightstand, waiting for him. He’ll pick it up later, after you’ve fallen asleep. For now, he lets himself breathe you in—warmth and honey and ginger.

“We have work tomorrow.” He tilts his head, and his lips brush against your hairline when he says it.

You laugh under your breath, your cheek pressed to his shoulder. “I am your work, Kento.”

Nanami smiles. He kisses your head again. His heart feels unbearably full.

Thus, he thinks, the courtship affairs of a common man have come to a very satisfying close.

⇢ a/n: as per usual, thank you to the inimitable @mahowaga for listening to me ramble about this fic & helping me out whenever i got stuck. this fic is pretty much dedicated to her. thank you for reading & i hope you have a wonderful day!

[tokoyamisstuff]

Second Chance At Love Epilogue

Warnings: none, maybe slight mental health issues

A/N: sorry for the wait, writing fluff doesn't come easy to me... but damn, I am incredibly thankful for everyone that has been engaging with this fic! 💌 it's been a pleasure, and I can't wait to create more for you wonderful people! ✨️

[Six Weeks Later]

"Had a nightmare again?"

Mark's half-lidded eyes were locked on you, wiping his wettened lashes dry before nuzzling against your chest again. He had fallen asleep on top of you while cuddling on the sofa, seeming rather peaceful until suddenly he had started getting restless and whisper concerning things in his sleep.

Those present days his only trouble was an irrational fear that he might hurt you during one of his night-terrors, and yet he was also too anxious of losing you again to not be at your side 24/7. So he had taken on the habit to simply hold you in his arms as and forcing himself to stay awake, admiring and protecting you even throughout the whole night.

Most of the time he'd just randomly pass out due to exhaustion, just like it had happened earlier. It's a miracle how he can even be functioning on so little rest, but Mark kept assuring you he's had it worse before and sadly, you did take his word for it.

"Mhh..." He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to shun out the unpleasant memories haunting his dreams and instead concentrates on your heartbeat in order to calm his own.

You're alive. You're here with him. This is real.

"A true nightmare would be waking up and see you gone" your boyfriend mumbled shyly as his panicked breathing slowly evens out, trailing an absentminded path of kisses along your collarbone.

Sometimes doubt would overcome him, thinking this was too good to be true, that maybe he just completely lost his mind and made it all up in his head.

"Hey, I'm with you" you coo sweetly, planting a wet kiss on the crown of his head. It's like you always have the words he needs to hear on the tip of your tongue.

"I know, I know..." Mark's grip on you loosens a bit, although his hands remained possessively hooked to your body. "Thank you."

You try sitting up but a noise of protest drang to your ear, making you giggle as the man climbed on top of you, burying his face in the crook of your neck to inhale your scent.

"Mark..." His mouth plays with the shell of your ear, making a pleasant shiver run down your spine. You let out a sensual sigh, hands disappearing under his shirt to feel up his muscular chest, before softly pushing him away. "We're already late..."

Your boyfriend sat up, still straddling your waist as his eyes darted throughout the room, trying to look anywhere but your face. "Are you, uh...are you sure William is okay with me accompanying you to his birthday party?"

"He specifically asked me to bring you along" you snicker, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt to pull him in for another kiss. He practically melts when he feels his lips move against yours, even after all this time. He'd never get tired of this, of you.

Mark's face is adorably flushed when you finally break contact, and you poke his chest in a teasing manner, offering him a cheeky grin. "So don't worry too much, okay?"

"Alright..." he murmurs under his breath, letting himself dramatically plummet onto you again. "Ugh, this is gonna be so awkward..."

Indeed...

With the sheer endless rebuild and trying to figure out your boyfriend's place in this world, there wasn't really much time for you to have a long overdue talk with this world's Mark and his girlfriend Eve.

"We need to get it over with eventually, right? The party is a great opportunity."

Those past weeks have been rather eventful, and frankly a lot is still complicated.

You haven't even let him meet your parents yet, since it'd be hard to explain why the man you're dating looks exactly like your childhood best friend down to the last minicule detail. A long lost twin, maybe? Damn, Cecil better earns his taxpayer's money and come up with something - it's a exhausting to keep your relationship a secret as technically, your boyfriend shouldn't exist in this dimension.

But ever since he was officially allowed to stay and roam freely, he's relentlessly working to make amends for his deeds.

He once confided in you that he's afraid of his father- no, Nolan's return to earth - because even though it's not the same version that tormented him all these years, he was afraid to relapse and lose control at the mere sight of him.

But that's a worry for another day. One step at a time.

Initially Cecil wanted your Mark to become the Guardian's new leader, however that 'the strongest leads' mindset was too similar to Viltrum culture for his liking. Not to mention he has yet to earn their trust, and is still not completely mentally stable.

When he first joined the team, everyone was - and frankly, still is - pretty wary, if not downright hateful towards him. After everything they needed to endure because of the variants, it's no wonder really. And yet, up until now they managed to swallow their feelings and treating him polite and respectful, though distanced, which is more than he could dare asking for.

A small victory is that the knowledge he got from his own timeline proved useful against many foes to come. Like that he's already indirectly averted so many dangers and saved countless lives!

One would think that after defeating an enemy as ferocious as Conquest through shared efforts, the two Marks would get along by now, right? But actually they were far from it, neutral at best.

Cecil insisted that both Marks could share their identity as Invincible, down to having the same costume and all. You were surprised that the original Mark had declined, as it would've certainly worked in his favor to have more free time and less responsibility. Seems like he was against having a variant - with questionable morals at best - act in his stead. You got the sentiment.

Your Mark on the other hand was willing to accept whatever circumstances he was handed, as long as it meant that the two of you could stay together. Besides that, he didn't really care about anything else.

Much to your delight at least, he's slowly but continuously getting better, with the help of a therapist the GDA had provided. You're a little distrustful of anyone working for them, but they basically owned your boyfriend by now - and also, there's no regular therapist on this earth that would be able to unpack all of his issues.

All that counts is that it's working. He's been unrecognizeable compared to his former self, getting out of his shell lately and cautiously opens up to other people and experiences again. It's truly heartwarming to see him try to enjoy life again, because he deserves nothing less.

You were so incredibly proud of the progress he made, and would do anything to support this wonderful, resilient and kind man leaving his dark past behind.

One prolonged shower the both of you took together later, and you were almost ready to leave for the evening.

"At least in my empire didn't have to wash the dishes anymore" you hear him whine ironically as he rummaged the kitchen, making you snicker. "I was soaking them!" you said in a fake offended tone, but you knew he was just stalling. "We can do them together later. Let's go!"

Looking around your rundown apartment sure makes one wonder how luxuriously he probably lived in his world. You were just glad to afford anything to live alone, but this sure must be a downgrade for him. "Now that you finally get payed by the GDA we could affort to move somewhere nicer? I mean you basically live with me already."

"Don't overthink it, I was just trying to be funny." You sulk a little, almost smearing your lipstick while applying. "Yeah, we need to work on your humor too apparently..."

"You know I wouldn't trade this- you for anything in the world...we could be living in a trashcan and I wouldn't complai- woah..." As Mark stepped into the entrance area his jaw dropped at your getup.

His eyes couldn't stop raking up and down your form, admiring how your outfit highlighted your body in all the right places. Anything from the way you wore your hair over the necklace he got you with his first paycheck, it was a sight to behold.

The most important accessory however was the radiant smile that appeared on your face when you noticed his reaction, so warm and bright that it felt as if bathing in sunlight itself.

"Wow, you, uh...you look incredible."

Only now he realized for how long he has been staring, and your innocent smile turned into a wide, amused one as you noticed the effect you had on him.

"The compliment goes right back!" You wink at him and Mark swings an arm around your shoulder, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek. "How do I even deserve you?"

"It should be me asking that question" he insists, ignoring the way his stomach churns at the thought of meeting all of your friends. "Hurry up, before I change my mind."

7:20 pm and you're finally at the bowling alley, not even half an hour too late. A new record. And as you were soon told, the party didn't start until 10 minutes later - you were just given an earlier time since they knew Mark would be late in any dimension.

To be perfectly honest, you were surprised that William invited your boyfriend, yet kept quiet to not worry him any further. But a few weeks prior you tried to get them acquainted, and of course William had pestered Mark about his counterpart's fate - until the latter finally confessed having gruesomely killed him at his father's request.

You reassured him that it was William's fault for riddling him with so many uncomfortable questions, and that he shouldn't have asked if he can't handle the truth. Seems you were right at least, there's a reason they were best friends across so many timelines.

The two of you were the first to arrive, before the actual birthday boy even, and still you needed to coax your boyfriend - who was currently spiraling - inside like one would lure in a timid animal.

You could only imagine what went through everyone's mind as they entered one after anothe - especially since not only them, but also Amber and her new partner had come. Feeling the anxiety radiating off of him, you remained at your boyfriend's side, squeezing his hand ever so slightly to remind him you're not going anywhere.

"Kinda awkward, huh? The relationship dynamics are all over the place" William teased, before turning around and busying himself with playing. "Try to act like adults, I'm busy destroying all of you with my skills."

"You wish!" Eve seemed the least rigid out of all of you, jumping up and materializing a custom bowling ball as she joined the couple. At least she seemed approachable...you'd rather not want to be on the receiving end of such a powerful being's wrath.

To be perfectly honest, seeing the original Mark - your former and hopefully soon again friend - after all this time wasn't nearly as strange as you imagined it'd be. You were glad to see him of course, but other than that you felt nothing but a siblinglike bond between you - the heartache and unrequited love you had felt for so long had vaporized completely.

He wasn't your Mark after all.

A few drinks later the mood loosened up eventually - at least for those of you who could still be affected by alcohol.

"They seem to get along surprisingly well" Amber noted, taking a seat next to you and clinking her bottle with yours, before nodding towards the two Marks conversing in the background. "What are they taking about?"

"They're complaining about the animation of the new Seance Dog season, I think?" You roll your eyes and both of you break out in laughter. "It was the first thing he did after the whole war. Made me sit through the entire thing in one night."

"Glad to hear our world's Mark is not the only hopeless nerd" Eve commented as she joined you two, now effectively trapped in between Mark's ex and his current girlfriend.

You took a deep, shuddered breath, before trying to explain yourself. "Eve, hear me out, before you say anything, I didn't-"

"I know" she interrupted you anyways, shooting you a sympathetic look. "I think we all understand. No matter how crazy the situation is, I think we're used to stuff like this by now..." You huffed an uncomfortable laugh, but she was right wasn't she? "Amber and I have been through similar things not long ago. I had a crush on Mark when they were still together, but we talked it out and are still friends."

"Why would we even be mad?" Amber added, "You never acted on your feelings and respected our relationship with Mark."

"Still, it's just...weird, isn't it?" You're fidgeting with your fingers, eyes darting between your boyfriend and the floor. "I mean, I'm dating a different version of Mark, that's just-"

"But he's his own person. It's not like you're setting for him just because you couldn't get the original, right?"

"Of course not!" you blurt out mildly upset, though you had also once accused your boyfriend of using you as a rebound. "He's not a replacement. He's himself. Even though they look alike and share similar memories, my Mark is different in so many ways...I didn't even plan to, we just happened to fall for each other."

Yeah. It may have started wrong, but the two of you got to know each other beyond your unhealthy obsession for the concept of your other variants.

"I'm glad to hear that" Eve and Amber both lay a hand on your shoulder, proclaiming they're very happy for how things turned out for you and the alternate Mark...

...but were rudely interrupted by the TV volume increasing due to emergency news about a villain rampaging in a nearby city.

"Mark!" all three of you yell in unison, and both of them flinch at the sound and rush towards you.

"We may need to give them nicknames..." You chuckle at Eve's idea, turning your attention to your partner. "Maybe I should call you 'Sebastian' from now on, so we can distinguish you two better?"

"Whatever you say, babe!" he chirps like the lovestruck fool he is, before realizing what was going on. "Oh. I'll go take care of it!" He turns to the original Mark, determination present on his face. "You can stay with your friends."

"You mean our friends" the original corrects him, and both crack a appreciative smile at each other. "And I don't think so. How about we go together?"

"Sure!" his counterpart chants happily, giving you a last quick embrace from behind before going outside. "Should be quick work with the two of us, see ya soon!"

Later this night the two of you were entangled under the sheets, long since stripped of any clothing as you enjoyed the warmth of each other's body. Your boyfriend absentmindedly caresses your skin, raising goosebumps as his fingertips trace little paths across your curves.

"Sooo..." you ask curious, now facing him while you pepper countless kisses across his face. "Did you enjoy the evening after all?"

"You have no idea" he admitted, feeling as content with himself as never before. "It's been forever since things felt so...normal. Also..." His thumb gently stroke your cheek and you eagerly leaned into his touch. "Mark said that our- uh, his mom and brother want to meet me."

"Oh?" Seems like things were progressing even better than you anticipated. "Well, what did you say?"

"I couldn't object even if I wanted to. Opened my mouth and he directly cut me off by saying something like 'what's one more half-viltrumite to accept into the family?'"

"Yeah, sounds like them." You snort with laughter, tears of happiness forming in the brim of your eyes. "But I'm glad, really. There's so many good people who welcome you into their lives now. You are so, so loved, do you know that?"

Mark leans his forehead against yours, briefly closing the gap between your lips. "All thanks to you" he claims, his voice wavering with almost worship-like reverence.

"No, that was all you." He tends to take all the blame but rarely gives himself credit. After the tragic turn his life took, throughout all the pain and loss...in the end he chose to do what's right.

If anyone deserves a happy ending, it's him - and you will make sure he gets it.

"Do you think Angstrom will return one day?" You ask cautiously and in an instant your boyfriend has securely cradled you against his chest.

"Of course, that bastard is tough. Being driven by insanity does that to a man, I know what I'm talking about." His joke only caused you to frown, but the sanguine smile plastered on his face was contagious nonetheless. Not to mention you were too drunk and tired to argue anyway. "Don't worry. This time we're two Invincibles, and I'll make sure nothing happens to this world. It's my home now...because you are on it."

Mark proceeds to rub a soothing pattern between your shoulderblades, draping the blanket over both of you as he watched you slowly drift into sleep. He leans in to plant a last, lingering kiss atop of your temple, closing his eyes as well to indulge in this peaceful closeness.

"...maybe I should be thanking Angstrom, for making me meet the true love of my life..."

[oopsiedaisydeer]

ᴍᴇʟᴀᴛᴏɴɪɴ

…𝘤𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘢 𝘨𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘱, 𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶

angst, fluff, slow burn, friends to lovers, melatonin addiction (metaphorically), jealousy, showering together, please just communicate already, pining, tension, oblivious

word count - 8k

The drive from the airport is quiet, the kind of quiet that isn’t exactly uncomfortable but isn't exactly comfortable either. Just… there. Chris has one hand on the wheel, the other tapping absentmindedly against his thigh. Every so often, his fingers twitch like he wants to reach for the volume knob, but he never follows through.

“You can play your music if you want,” she offers, just to break the silence.

Chris exhales, kind of amused, kind of relieved. “Yeah? You’re not too tired?”

She rolls her eyes. “Please. You act like I haven’t been forced to listen to your music in Matt’s car a million times.”

That earns her a little laugh, but he scrolls through his phone anyway, puts on something easy, something familiar. The first notes of a Mac Miller song hum through the car. She lets her forehead rest against the window, feeling the warmth of LA’s night air pressing against the glass.

When they finally get to the house, Chris grabs her suitcase from the trunk, nodding toward the door. “Come on, before I pass out on the driveway.”

Inside, the house is quiet except for the faint hum of the fridge. Matt and Nick must already be asleep. Chris hauls her suitcase down the hall, stopping outside his room.

“Alright, so, you can take my bed,” he says, rubbing his face like the exhaustion is finally catching up to him.

“What? No, it’s fine, I can take the couch,” she protests.

“Nah, the couch is ass,” he shoots back immediately. “I fall asleep on it all the time, I’d know.”

“Then where are you gonna sleep?”

Chris shrugs, already walking into his room and grabbing some sweats from the dresser. “I’ll just go up to Matt’s.”

He says it so casually, like it’s no big deal, but she hesitates. “You really don’t have to—”

“Dude, I’m literally in my own house. I think I can find somewhere to sleep. Matt doesn’t mind.” He disappears into the bathroom, voice muffled as he brushes his teeth. “Besides, I wouldn’t get any sleep in here anyway.”

That makes her pause. “What do you mean?”

Chris spits out toothpaste, rinses his mouth, then leans in the doorway, running a hand through his hair. He looks tired. More than tired.

“Eh,” he shrugs. “Dunno. Just been sleeping like shit lately. Stress or whatever.”

She doesn’t push, but something about the way he says it, like it’s normal, sits weird in her chest. He disappears again to change, still talking.

“Swear to God, I was sleeping in Matt’s room the other week, and I got sleep paralysis. You ever get that?”

She wrinkles her nose. “No, thank God.”

“Shit’s terrifying,” Chris mutters. “I always see some nightmare-looking thing, and I get stuck in these weird lucid dreams.”

She makes a face. “Alright, well. Sweet dreams.”

Chris just laughs, tugging his hoodie over his head. “Yeah, yeah.” He throws a pillow onto the bed for her, yawns into his sleeve, then heads for the door.

She watches him go, then, on impulse, grabs the remote and turn on the TV. The glow fills the room, casting soft shadows on the walls.

Chris stops in the doorway. “What are you doing?”

“Watching some youtube.”

Chris squints at her, then at the screen. “You don’t even like my recommendations.”

She shrugs. “I always watch youtube before bed.”

Chris scoffs, but he’s already walking back toward the bed. He kicks off his slides, plops down on the mattress, and grabs the remote from her hand like he was always planning on staying.

For a while, it’s just the two of them, bathed in the glow of the TV, flipping through videos, making fun of whatever’s on the screen. He stretches out next to her, close enough that she can feel the warmth of him, even though neither of them acknowledge it.

At some point, one video blurs into the next, the voices on screen turning into white noise. Her eyelids grow heavier. Chris mumbles something about closing his eyes for a second.

Neither of them mean to fall asleep. But you do.

Sunlight leaks through the blinds, spilling over tangled sheets and the forgotten remote. She stirs first, half-aware of the weight pressed into the mattress beside her.

Chris is still asleep, face smushed into the pillow, hoodie slipping off his shoulder. His breathing is deep, even. Peaceful.

Then, slowly, he shifts, stretching like a cat before cracking one eye open.

He blinks at her. Then at the TV. Then back at her.

“You didn’t kick me out,” he mumbles, voice thick with sleep.

“You didn’t leave,” she points out.

Chris hums, rolling onto his back. His gaze flickers toward the ceiling, thoughtful.

Then, soft, barely there, “Damn. I haven’t slept that good in forever.”

She doesn’t know what to say to that. So she doesn’t say anything.

Chris yawns, then turns his head, shooting her a lazy grin. “Guess you’re like melatonin or something.”

She rolls her eyes, pushing his arm. “Don’t be weird.”

Chris just laughs, stretching again before flopping dramatically onto the pillow.

“Whatever, dude. I’m just saying,” he mutters, already half-asleep again.

And for some reason, that weird feeling from last night settles a little.

Slowly but surely, an accident became a routine.

The next night, Chris was talking to her before heading up to Matt’s room, just like before. She had started a video, some dumb commentary channel she liked, and he had sat on the edge of the bed, watching over her shoulder, pretending like he wasn’t actually interested.

Somewhere between one video and the next, he had stretched out beside her, claiming it was more comfortable than craning his neck. And then, at some point after that, he had fallen asleep. She didn’t mind. She fell asleep soon after.

The next morning, he stirred awake to the feeling of warmth beside him. His room smelled different…cleaner, softer, like her shampoo. The sheets rustled, and when he opened his eyes, he saw her lying there, still half-asleep.

“Morning,” she murmured, voice thick with sleep.

Chris blinked at the ceiling. He hadn’t woken up once last night. No tossing and turning, no staring at the walls until exhaustion took over. Just… sleep. Real, deep sleep. He turned his head toward her, voice groggy.

“I take it back. I think that was the best sleep I’ve ever had.”

She huffed a small laugh, rubbing her eyes before reaching for her phone. “Good to know I make an effective substitute for melatonin.”

He grinned, shaking his head, but didn’t argue.

By the third night, he didn’t even try going upstairs.

He still made a show of pretending he was just there to talk, of course. He’d walk in, plop down onto the bed, ask her some dumb question about whatever video she was watching. She’d answer, play along, knowing exactly what he was doing. And when she eventually switched the screen off, pulled the blankets up, and turned off the lamp, he was still there.

Neither of them said anything about it.

And if, over time, he started inching closer, if she stopped sleeping with her back to him, if they eventually woke up tangled in the mornings, well… no one had to know.

Except Nick did find out.

He had barged into Chris’s room one morning, complaining about something random, only to freeze mid-sentence. His eyes flicked from Chris’s arm slung around her waist to the way her face was pressed into the pillow, and then back again.

Chris blinked, barely awake. “What?”

Nick made a face. “Dude.”

Chris groaned, rolling onto his back and rubbing his eyes. “It’s not what it looks like.”

Nick crossed his arms. “It looks like you’re spooning our best friend.”

Chris scoffed, sitting up. “I was not spooning her.”

Nick raised an eyebrow.

Chris glanced over. She was still curled up, half-asleep, completely unbothered.

“Okay, maybe I was,” he admitted, voice low. “But it’s not a thing. We’re just friends, you know that.”

Nick didn’t look convinced. “Wait till I tell Matt. He’s gonna think it’s weird.”

Chris flopped back onto the pillows, sighing. “Matt thinks everything is weird.”

“Yeah, well, I think it’s weird too.”

Chris waved a lazy hand in the air. “Then don’t think about it.”

Nick stared at him for another second, then exhaled, shaking his head. “Whatever, dude.” He turned to leave, muttering, “You’re weird.”

Chris ignored him.

But later, when he found himself awake before her again, when he saw the way she had drifted closer in the night, how easy it was, how natural, it made his chest feel tight.

He didn’t know what that meant. He wasn’t sure he wanted to.

That afternoon, as she rummaged through her suitcase, Nick casually tossed her a shirt she’d been eyeing for the party later. "You good?" he asked, his voice light, but the concern was still there.

She paused for a moment, throwing a glance at him. "Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?"

Nick crossed his arms, gaze softening just a little. “You sure? ‘Cause you’ve always had a soft spot for Chris, and now you two are… I just—” He sighed, glancing away for a moment before looking back at her. “I know how you get when you start liking someone. Just don’t want you to get hurt.”

She scoffed, waving a dismissive hand. “It’s not like that.”

Nick gave her a knowing look, clearly not convinced. “Alright. Just making sure, okay?” His voice was gentle now, like he wanted her to know he was looking out for her, even if she didn’t want to hear it. “I just don’t want you falling for someone who’s not gonna catch you, you know?”

Her stomach twisted slightly at his words, but she refused to show it. “I’m fine. Really.”

Nick gave a small nod but didn’t look entirely reassured. “Just be careful. Alright?”

She didn’t respond right away, too caught up in the knot of emotions Nick’s words had caused. She forced a smile. “I will.”

That night, she found herself in conversation with a guy she’d just met. He was nice, easy to talk to, and she was enjoying herself. 

That was, until Chris appeared beside her, sliding an arm around her waist like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Her breath hitched. Her heart both soared and sank.

She turned slightly, looking up at him. “What are you doing?”

Chris shrugged, gaze locked onto the guy in front of her. “Just saying hey.”

The guy hesitated, glancing between them before offering a small smile. “I should, uh, grab another drink. Nice meeting you.”

She watched him go, then turned back to Chris, who was still standing way too close. “Really?”

Chris just grinned, unfazed. “What?”

She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t ignore the way her body betrayed her, leaning the slightest bit into him despite herself.

The night air was cool, but she felt warmth against her skin, and she stirred in her sleep, confused for a moment as to why she wasn’t alone. It took a moment before her groggy mind registered the weight of Chris’s arm draped over her waist, his chest pressed lightly against her back. The soft, rhythmic sound of his breathing filled the silence of the room.

Her shirt sleeve had ridden up, and his lips were warm against her bare shoulder, pressing a soft kiss against the exposed skin. It was gentle, almost like he was unaware of what he was doing, but the sensation sent a jolt through her.

She didn’t know how long he'd been there, how long this moment had been unfolding, but everything inside her froze. She could feel his heartbeat against her back, his presence so familiar yet unsettling all at once. Her chest tightened. She didn’t know what to do. Didn’t know where they stood. Didn’t know if this was something real or just another moment she was reading too far into.

His lips brushed against her skin again, and the tension in her body grew, her mind racing, trying to sort through the haze of sleep and confused feelings. She liked it. She liked it more than she should.

She gently shifted, trying not to disturb him, but the movement made her heart race even more. Her hand found the edge of the bed, and she slowly started to sit up, trying to slip away from him without waking him. She could feel his arm loosen slightly as she moved, but his grip still lingered, not quite enough to stop her but enough to remind her that he was there.

She carefully swung her legs over the side of the bed, standing up and pulling her sleeve back down, her mind still racing, her chest tight with something she couldn’t quite place. The room felt colder now that she was standing, the emptiness of the space around her only making everything seem more unclear.

Chris shifted behind her, the faint sound of him mumbling something in his sleep, but he didn’t wake. She paused, glancing over her shoulder at him, his face still relaxed in slumber. There was no way he knew what had just happened.

Her hand hovered over the door, but she stayed there for a moment longer, watching him. She wanted to say something, to wake him and tell him how she felt, how everything seemed so messy between them, but the words were stuck in her throat.

Instead, she turned away and left the room quietly, closing the door behind her with a soft click, leaving him alone in the bed. An early morning would do her good.

Chris, still half-asleep, didn't notice. He mumbled something else, shifting slightly under the covers, a frown tugging at his face, but nothing seemed amiss to him. The effect of melatonin can stay in your body for 4 to 10 hours.

The movie had just finished, and the soft hum of the credits filled the room as the others began to stretch out. Nick yawned, glancing at Matt. “I’m heading up. You coming?”

Matt nodded, not looking up from his phone. “Yeah, I’ll be up in a minute.”

Nick tossed a quick “night” in their direction and headed upstairs, his footsteps fading as he disappeared into the hall.

Chris stretched his arms out, the tiredness from the night creeping in. He looked over at her, still curled up on the couch, a blanket draped over her legs. “You ready for bed?” he asked, his voice low and casual, as if the idea was just a natural extension of their evening together.

She blinked, looking up at him from where she was snuggled into the couch. “Um,” she started with a half-smile, trying to sound nonchalant. “I’m comfy here. Think I’ll just sleep on the couch.”

Chris hesitated, his brow furrowing slightly in confusion. He took a small step toward her, his tone softening. “You sure? You okay?”

She froze for just a beat too long. The words were there, right on the tip of her tongue—she wanted to tell him everything, how confused she felt, how much she cared—but nothing came out. Instead, she gave a quick nod and forced a smile. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just need some space.”

The words left her mouth a little too quickly, the awkwardness hanging in the air. She could see it in Chris’s eyes, that flicker of uncertainty. He didn’t push it, but there was a slight pause before he spoke again.

“Okay,” he said, his voice softer now. “I’ll be downstairs if you change your mind.” He stood there for a second longer, glancing at her, but she didn’t say anything else.

With a quiet “g’night,” Chris turned and headed for the stairs, the sound of his footsteps growing faint as he descended to the lower floor.

She stayed on the couch, the silence of the room wrapping around her like a blanket. Her chest felt tight again, but she didn’t want to go to him. The night passed slowly, and despite her intentions, she didn’t sleep as soundly as she hoped. There was an uneasy restlessness that lingered beneath the surface, something she couldn’t quite shake. She wasn’t sure what it was… maybe it was guilt, or the weight of her own emotions… but the pull she felt for Chris, mixed with the walls she kept building around herself, left her feeling both disconnected and deeply conflicted.

Meanwhile, Chris lay awake in his own bed, staring at the ceiling, his mind replaying the same conversation. He didn’t quite understand what had just happened, but something felt different. She’d never said anything like that before, and it bothered him more than he was willing to admit. He buried his face in his pillow, hoping that inhaling the scent of her would give him even a fraction of the calming effect she had when she was in his arms.

Sleep didn’t come easily for either of them that night.

She sleeps on the couch again the next night. And the night after that. 

It’s almost five nights before the new routine is interrupted.

She was already half asleep when Chris appeared, his figure casting a long shadow over the couch. She barely stirred, but when his voice broke the silence, her eyes fluttered open.

“I can’t sleep,” Chris murmured, standing at the edge of the couch, his tone low and full of exhaustion. “My bed smells like you... miss you.”

Her heart skipped a beat at the way his words felt too familiar. She tried to stay still, pretend like everything was fine, but something in his voice made her want to respond, to comfort him. It was easy to let him in like this, so easy to slip into the warmth he offered, but tonight felt different. She couldn’t ignore the way her mind was racing.

“Take some melatonin, Chris.”

“Already did an hour ago. Didn’t do shit.”

Before she could say anything, Chris climbed onto the couch beside her, sliding down next to her with a small sigh of relief. She didn’t pull away immediately. Instead, she let herself relax just a little, the tension in her shoulders softening as he settled beside her. His arm slipped around her, pulling her a bit closer, and she let him.

His face was so close to hers now, and she could feel his breath as he spoke, his voice quiet and soothing. “I just... I don’t know. I miss having you around like this. It’s been easier with you here, you know? It feels right. You’re my melatonin.”

Her heart ached at his words, but her stomach twisted in knots. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to find the courage to say something, anything, but the warmth of his touch, his gentle presence, was almost overwhelming. She didn't want to ruin it, but she couldn't ignore the heaviness in her chest either.

He shifted closer, resting his head against hers, a soft smile on his lips. “I’ve missed this. Missed you. Being close. Not having to say anything, just being.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, the softness of his words crashing into her like waves, tugging at her heart. Her chest felt tight, and she took a slow breath, gathering her thoughts. She knew she couldn’t keep ignoring this, ignoring the way her heart was reacting to him, but also how much she was hurting.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Not now.

“You’re my best friend.” he murmurs.

Finally, she sat up, her body tense as she pulled away from him slightly. Chris looked at her with a furrowed brow, his hand reaching out instinctively as if to pull her back to him, but she shook her head gently.

“Chris, we need to talk,” she said, her voice quieter than she intended, but firm enough that he knew this was something serious.

His brow furrowed in confusion, but he didn’t move. “What’s wrong?”

She took a steadying breath. “You can’t keep doing this to me,” she said, her voice thick with the weight of everything she had been holding back. “You show up, and you pull me in like it’s nothing. And I let you. But I can’t keep pretending that I don’t feel something... something more.”

Chris’s eyes widened, and he opened his mouth as if to say something, but she pushed on, needing to get it out.

“I can’t keep doing this, Chris. You’re taking advantage of me, messing with my head.” Her voice wavered for a moment, but she kept going, her words becoming clearer, stronger. “I don’t even know where we stand, and… I just, I need space. I need time.”

He stared at her, his expression unreadable, and for a moment, there was only silence between them. The space that had been so filled with warmth and affection now felt distant, uncomfortable.

Chris finally spoke, his voice soft, confused. “Wait… You’re serious?”

She nodded, her chest aching, but her resolve growing stronger with every second. “Yes. I care about you, Chris. A lot. I just don’t think I can keep letting this go on like it has.”

He didn’t say anything for a while. His eyes were locked on hers, searching for something, anything that might explain her words. But all he found was the certainty in her gaze, and it seemed to deflate him. Slowly, he sat up, his face crumpling with an emotion she couldn’t quite name.

“Okay,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. He didn’t argue, didn’t ask for an explanation, just accepted her words with a quiet sadness in his eyes.

The silence between them was heavy, and for a moment, she wasn’t sure if she had made the right choice. But she knew she couldn’t keep ignoring her own heart. She needed space, even if it meant breaking things off with him for good.

He stood up and walked toward the door without saying another word, leaving her there on the couch, her heart torn but her mind finally clear.

Chris avoids her. Doesn’t so much as speak to her for the next three days. Not that she doesn’t try. She doesn’t want to lose her friend, no matter how much he confuses the shit out of her.

When she wakes up that morning, she leaves a text: “I’m sorry for what I said. I hope things aren’t weird between us.” It’s simple, non-confrontational, just her way of reaching out. She waits for a reply, but it never comes.

She sees him in the kitchen later, his back turned as he scrambles some eggs. She stands in the doorway, chewing on her lip, trying to find the right words. But when he doesn’t even acknowledge her presence, she feels her heart sink. She clears her throat, and the words finally spill out.

“Hey, uh… I’ve been thinking about everything, and I just,”

He doesn’t turn around. The sound of the pan sizzling is louder than her voice. She bites her lip, swallowing the lump in her throat, and finally walks away. It stings, but she tries not to let it show.

She tries again, finding him lounging on the couch, eyes glued to the TV. It’s not like he doesn’t know she’s there. She’s in his line of sight. She stands in front of him, arms folded over her chest.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” she says, her voice a little too quiet, but loud enough for him to hear. “Are we seriously doing this?”

He doesn’t look at her. His eyes stay locked on the screen. The silence stretches out until she’s almost ready to walk away.

“Chris,” she says, a little more forcefully this time. “Please just say something.”

He sighs, leaning back on the couch, eyes still on the TV. “I’m not avoiding you.”

She can feel her frustration bubbling up, but she forces it down. “Then what’s going on? You’ve barely looked at me in three days.”

He doesn’t respond right away, and she can tell he’s weighing something in his head. Finally, he shifts, glancing at her with a look that says he’s tired of this conversation before it’s even started. “You said you needed space, right?”

She blinks at him, feeling a sudden tightness in her chest. “Space?” She repeats, as if she didn’t hear him right. “Oh. Right.”

“Yeah,” he says, voice flat. “You said you need some time. So I’m respecting that.”

She swallows hard, blinking back the sting of tears. “Fine,” she says, the word feeling hollow. “If that’s how you want to be.”

But before she can turn away, he adds, almost too quietly, “You’re the one who made it… complicated.”

“It’s been complicated for a while now,” she mutters under her breath, not even sure if he hears it. When she does turn to leave, she hears the TV volume go up slightly.

The kitchen was unusually quiet on the fourth morning, the usual chatter drowned out by the tension hanging thick in the air. She sat at the breakfast table next to Nick, absentmindedly stirring her coffee. Across from her, Matt was flipping through his phone, and Chris sat diagonally, his gaze fixed somewhere near her, but not directly on her. She could feel the weight of his eyes, but she kept her focus on her mug, pretending not to notice.

Matt, ever the oblivious one to the mood shifts, broke the silence. “So, any plans tonight?” His tone was casual, but she could sense the underlying curiosity.

She paused for a beat, the question feeling almost too loaded now. She wasn’t sure if she was ready to confront the situation in front of everyone, but the words slipped out anyway. “I’ve got a date.”

The room seemed to freeze.

Chris immediately went still, his posture rigid, his eyes narrowing in a way she didn’t dare acknowledge. His jaw clenched, and she could feel the tension building between them like an electric current. But she couldn’t look at him. She just couldn’t.

Nick shot her a playful smile. “Oh, a date, huh? Who’s the lucky guy?”

She forced a small smile, shrugging. “Just someone I met at that party. Nothing serious.”

Matt gave her a curious look, but said nothing, sensing the sudden shift in the atmosphere. Meanwhile, Chris’s gaze hadn’t left her, though she kept her eyes down, deliberately avoiding his. She could feel his stare burning into her skin, but she refused to acknowledge it.

The silence stretched, the clink of silverware against plates sounding louder than it should. She stole a quick glance at Chris, but when their eyes met, she immediately looked away, her heart pounding in her chest. She couldn’t deal with it. Not now.

Nick, thankfully, broke the quiet with a cheerful comment, completely unaware of the tension he was helping diffuse. “Well, I hope he’s worth the hype!” he teased, nudging her lightly.

She managed a smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “We’ll see,” she muttered, the words hollow.

Matt cleared his throat, his gaze flicking between her and Chris, but he didn’t push further. He wasn’t one to press, but the quiet stillness felt uncomfortable, like everyone was just waiting for something to break.

Chris’s hand tightened around his mug, but he didn’t speak. His eyes never left her face, and she wondered if he could feel the space growing between them. She could.

The rest of breakfast passed in strained silence. Every word felt too loud, every movement too deliberate. She couldn’t shake the feeling that the dynamic between them had shifted, irreparably.

The afternoon light was fading by the time she made her way to Nick’s room to get ready. The door was slightly ajar, and she pushed it open, laying her clothes neatly out on the bed, everything set for the night ahead. She’d spent a while picking out her outfit, wanting to look good for herself… no one else. The soft fabric of the dress she’d chosen made her feel a little lighter, a little more like herself.

She stood in front of the mirror, smoothing down the fabric of her dress, taking a breath. She wasn’t sure what kind of energy she’d need tonight, but she was determined to go into it with confidence. The tension from breakfast was still hanging over her, but she tried to shake it off. She wasn’t going to let it mess with her plans.

The door to Nick’s room opened behind her, and he stepped in with a grin. “Hey, you look great!” His voice was genuine, the usual cheer in his tone. “That guy’s so lucky.”

She smiled at him, appreciating the support. “Thanks, Nick.”

Nick gave her a quick thumbs up before leaning against the doorframe. “You’re gonna crush it, as usual. Go have fun.”

She nodded and straightened her dress one more time. “I will. See you later.”

As she walked past him to head out of Nick’s room, she spotted Matt sitting on the couch in the living room. He glanced up when she entered, his face lighting up with a smile.

“Look at you!” he said, his voice full of warmth. “You clean up pretty well.”

She chuckled, feeling the genuine platonic affection in his words. “Thanks, Matt.” She liked that he never tried to make things weird. It was always just easy with him, no strings attached.

“You’re gonna kill it,” he added, a small grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Tell him I said hey, though.”

She gave him a thumbs up, her heart lightened by his words. His support was always comforting. It was simple. No pressure.

But as she reached the door, ready to leave, she couldn’t help but notice that Chris wasn’t around. She hadn’t seen him at all, not since breakfast, really—only heard the faint hum of music from his room a few times, the silence between them unspoken but heavy. She tried not to think about it, but as she looked over the room once more, she realised he was still nowhere to be found.

Her chest tightened just slightly, but she shook it off. No time for that now.

With a deep breath, she turned back to the front door and pulled on her jacket. It was time to go. She didn’t look back.

The house was quieter now, with the soft hum of the evening setting in. Matt was still lounging on the couch, flicking through something on his phone. He looked up when he heard footsteps approaching, and his gaze shifted to the hallway just as Chris appeared from his room.

Chris was wearing a relaxed look, his hair a bit messier than usual, clearly just having pulled himself out of his space after being holed up for most of the day. He paused in the doorway, looking around before his eyes landed on Matt.

“Has she left yet?” Chris asked, his tone careful but tinged with something Matt couldn’t quite place. It was almost like he’d been waiting for the answer, his fingers tapping on his jeans nervously.

Matt glanced up from his phone, taking a beat before nodding. “Yeah, just left a few minutes ago.”

Chris stiffened slightly, his jaw tightening ever so subtly. There was a moment of silence, and Matt noticed the way his younger brother’s gaze shifted downward, as if weighing something he wasn’t ready to say. His lips parted, like he was going to ask something else, but then he closed them again, a deep breath escaping him.

Without saying another word, Chris took a step toward the stairs, his movements slow and deliberate. He hesitated at the base of the stairs for a second, then turned, walking past Matt with his head slightly down.

Matt watched him go, furrowing his brow, something in the air now feeling just a little heavier. Chris didn’t look back, heading straight up toward Nick’s room, his footsteps steady but lacking the usual confidence he carried with him.

“I swear, man, I can’t fucking sleep. Not at all.” Chris’s voice was tight with agitation as he ran a hand over his face. “It’s like something’s just… missing. My brain just won’t turn off.”

Nick, who had been scrolling on his phone, looked up at him with a sharp look, setting the phone aside. “Yeah, I wonder what’s keeping you up, Chris. Could it be the fact that you’ve been pushing someone away for the last couple of days?”

Chris froze, a flash of annoyance flickering across his face. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Nick’s voice was low and steady, but the frustration was there, raw beneath the surface. “You’ve been messing with her head, man. And you’re not even realising it.”

Chris’s jaw clenched, his hands curling into fists. “What are you trying to say?”

Nick pushed off the bed and stood up, his stance more confrontational now, stepping closer to Chris. “You’re pushing her away, and I don’t think you even realise how much it’s affecting her. You know she’s had a thing for you for a long time, right?” Nick’s words were like a punch to the gut for Chris. “And now, she doesn’t know what the hell you want from her.”

Chris opened his mouth to respond, but Nick wasn’t done. “You’ve been hot and cold with her. One minute, you’re all over her, next minute, you’re ghosting her. She’s confused as hell. Heck, Matt and I are confused as hell.”

Chris’s throat tightened. He didn’t want to hear this. He wasn’t ready to confront it. “I’m not doing anything to hurt her,” he muttered, more to himself than to Nick.

Nick’s eyes narrowed. “You’re not trying to hurt her, but you are. You can’t keep doing this to her, man. She’s been nothing but there for you, and you’re just gonna keep running hot and cold on her like it’s nothing?”

Chris’s frustration built, and his tone turned sharper. “It’s not like that, Nick. I just—” He faltered, unable to finish the sentence. He didn’t have an answer.

Nick wasn’t backing down. “Then what the hell is it? Do you like her or not?” His voice was louder now, his frustration spilling over. “Because, from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re stringing her along.”

Chris’s pulse quickened, his breathing coming in short bursts. The words were hanging in the air, and he didn’t know how to answer. The truth was, he didn’t know. He didn’t know what he felt. He hadn’t let himself think about it. But now, with Nick pushing him like this, it was all too much.

“I don’t know!” Chris snapped, the words coming out harsher than he meant. “I haven’t thought about it. Not properly. I don’t know what I want, okay?” He ran a hand through his hair again, pacing the room like he was trying to escape the pressure building inside him.

Nick was unrelenting, his voice low but sharp. “Well, you better figure it out, Chris. You’re both just tiptoeing around something, and it’s not fair to her. It’s not fair to either of you.”

Chris finally stopped pacing, looking at Nick with a mixture of frustration and guilt in his eyes. He wanted to argue. He wanted to tell Nick that he didn’t mean to mess things up, but the words wouldn’t come. The guilt in his chest was too heavy, and he knew Nick was right. He was confusing her.

“I’m not trying to hurt her, alright? I don’t even know what’s going on with me right now,” Chris muttered, his voice softer, more vulnerable. “I care. About her, I do. Really. But I can’t just... I don’t know how to fix this.”

Nick sighed, shaking his head in disappointment. “You’ve already hurt her, Chris. Do you want to keep doing it? Keep messing with her head, or do you want to figure it out before it gets even worse?”

Chris paced slowly, trying to distract himself with anything, getting a soda, checking his phone, anything that would stop his mind from spinning. But it was no use. All he could think about was her.

As he opened the fridge, the front door creaked open, and he froze for a moment. He knew she was back.

He grabbed the pepsi without even thinking about it and turned, casually leaning against the counter. His eyes landed on her almost immediately as she walked in, looking effortlessly stunning despite the exhaustion in her eyes. She was still wearing the outfit she’d worn for her date, and the glow of happiness she carried with her made his chest ache.

He couldn’t stop staring at her.

She was smiling, genuinely smiling, the kind of smile that didn’t belong to someone who’d just had an awkward, disappointing evening. She looked happy, and it made him feel something sharp. Something that didn’t make sense. He didn’t like it.

She walked past him, shrugging off her jacket and tossing it over the back of the chair. She was humming softly to herself, completely oblivious to the storm brewing inside him.

“How was it?” Chris blurted out, almost without thinking, his voice low but with an edge to it.

Her smile faltered for just a second before she answered. “It was alright. He was nice,” she said, taking her shoes off as she leant against the dining table. “He paid for the date, said he wouldn’t mind seeing me again.”

Chris stood there frozen, his fingers tightening around the bottle. He didn’t know why her words made him feel this way, jealous, frustrated, irritated, but it did. She wasn’t his, she could date whoever she wanted, but hearing that made something twist inside him.

She caught the briefest flicker of something in his eyes, a weird mix of discomfort and something else… maybe… jealousy? But it was gone before she could fully process it.

There was a long silence. Neither of them seemed to know what to say.

He was the first to break it. “Are you gonna sleep on the couch again?” His voice was low, too soft, and when he asked, it sounded like something he didn’t want to ask at all.

She nodded, biting her lip slightly. “Yeah… I’ll just shower and then probably pass out.”

His chest tightened at the thought of her sleeping on the couch, and he couldn’t hold back anymore. He set the pepsi down with a soft thud, the frustration he had been holding in all day finally spilling out.

“Please,” he began, his tone almost pleading as he walked towards her. “Can we just go back to the way it was between us? I can’t... I can’t do this. I can’t sleep without you around, especially not when my bed still smells like you. I need you.”

Her eyes flashed at his words, and for a moment, she stayed silent. She hadn’t expected him to say that, but hearing it made her feel a mix of frustration and confusion.

“You’re being unfair, Chris,” she finally said, her voice sharp as her anger started to rise. “You’re taking advantage of the fact that I care about you, and I’m sick of it. You’re pulling me in one moment and pushing me away the next. You don’t do that to someone you care about. You don’t do that to your friend. And all this time, you’ve been acting like it’s nothing, like you don’t care how much you’re messing with my head.”

She was getting louder now, her words tumbling out in an angry rant.

“You think I don’t notice? You think I don’t see the way you act like I’m just supposed to keep waiting around for you to figure out your shit? It’s exhausting!” She stepped back, pacing slightly, her frustration boiling over. “If you can’t man up and ask me out, or just tell me how you feel, then I’m done. I’m going to shower, and then I’m going to sleep. On the couch. By myself. And you can figure out what the hell you want. By yourself.”

The silence that followed was thick. Chris was staring at her now, wide-eyed, shocked by her words. But there was something else in his gaze, something that told her he knew she was right.

“Please,” he said again, his voice barely above a whisper now, his tone softer. “I didn’t mean to hurt you... I just…”

But she shook her head, cutting him off. “You’re not hearing me, Chris. You have to figure it out. Because I’m not going to keep doing this, okay?”

She walked away without another word, her shoulders stiff, her eyes resolutely forward.

Chris stood there for a long moment, his chest aching with something he couldn’t quite place. Regret, maybe, or guilt. 

He couldn’t let her walk away. He couldn’t let this be the end. Not like this. The intensity of the situation was too much, the longing too real. And before he could even think about it, he was pulling her back towards him, his lips crashing against hers.

She gasped in surprise at first, but her body reacted almost instinctively,her lips parting slightly, her hands gripping his shirt. She moaned into the kiss, a soft sound that echoed in the quiet house.

He pulled her closer, his hands slipping around her waist, and before they knew it, they were walking together, still tangled in each other’s arms, down the stairs towards his room. She stumbled slightly as her feet were lost in the rush, and he caught her effortlessly, guiding her backwards through the door and onto the bed. She fell onto it with a soft thud, and he was on top of her, kissing her with a desperation that mirrored his own.

It was all so overwhelming, everything that had built up between them, all the confusion, all the pain and frustration. And for the first time, Chris felt like it was finally real, finally happening.

But at some point, the kiss slowed, the urgency giving way to something softer. Their breaths mingled in the quiet of the room, and Chris pulled back, his forehead resting against hers, his heart pounding in his chest.

There was a long silence between them, thick with unspoken words. Chris’s fingers lightly brushed over her cheek, his thumb tracing the curve of her jaw as he gazed at her, searching her face as if trying to find the right words.

"I don't know how to say this," he murmured, his voice quiet but steady. “But I think I’ve liked you for so long. I didn’t even realize it at first, but I know now. I know it’s been obvious, and I know I’ve been an idiot for pretending it wasn’t. But I can’t keep pretending anymore. Not with you. Not with the way you make me feel."

Her heart thudded in her chest, and for a moment, she couldn’t say anything. She simply stared up at him, still processing the weight of his confession.

He took a deep breath, sitting up slightly to adjust his position, still looking at her like she was the only thing that mattered in the room.

“I didn’t know what to do with all of this, okay?” he continued, his words tumbling out faster now, as if he’d been holding them back for far too long. “I’ve been running away from it, pushing you away, and then I got confused because I didn’t know if you felt the same. And the thing is,” He paused, his eyes softening. “The thing is, I never wanted to hurt you. I didn’t want to mess with your head. But I’m so scared of being vulnerable. So scared of screwing this up. But now… now I know that I’m not scared of you. I’m just scared of losing you.”

His voice broke a little on the last word, and for the first time, she saw the depth of the uncertainty in his eyes. He was just as scared as she was.

"I... I can't sleep without you," he admitted, his voice thick with emotion. "I was serious when I said you’re like my melatonin. You’ve been in my head, all the time, and I keep pretending like it’s nothing, like it’s fine, but it’s not. I can’t keep doing this. I can’t pretend like I’m okay when I’m not. I need you."

The words hung in the air between them, heavy with truth. He reached for her hand, gently taking it in his. "I care about you. I care about you so much, and I don’t want to mess this up anymore. I just... I want you to know that. I want you to know how much you mean to me."

Her breath caught in her throat, and for a long moment, she didn’t know what to say. Everything he’d said was so much, so real, and it was more than she'd expected him to admit. Her heart swelled with everything he had said, and for the first time, she felt like they were on the same page. 

She leaned up, pressing her lips to his, softly this time, as if sealing the promise he had just made.

She sighed, a small, almost sad smile playing on her lips before she leaned up and kissed him once more—lightly this time, a soft, lingering kiss that spoke of both forgiveness and longing.

Pulling away, she stood, brushing herself off. "I need to shower," she said, her voice quieter now.

Chris immediately pouted, the playful expression softening his features. “You can’t just leave me like this,” he muttered, reaching for her hand, his thumb brushing over her skin.

She couldn’t help but laugh a little. “I’m not leaving, just going to shower.”

He tugged her closer before she could escape, kissing her again—softer this time, tender. “Please... let me shower with you. I just want to be with you, okay?”

She paused, unsure, her heart still trying to catch up to everything. But there was something about the sincerity in his eyes that made her nod. “Okay, but only if you promise to be gentle. No funny business.”

His face lit up with a grin, and he pulled her towards the bathroom, his hands on her waist. Once inside, he turned the shower on, the warm water hissing as it began to pour down. They stood there for a moment, both of them still catching their breath, before Chris gently ran his fingers through her hair.

“You���re so beautiful.”

“Let me wash your hair,” he murmured, his voice almost a whisper. He was so careful with her, as if handling something fragile, every movement soft and deliberate. As he massaged the shampoo into her hair, the tension slowly drained from her body, replaced by warmth and the gentle intimacy of the moment.

The water cascaded down their skin, but it was more than just the warmth of the shower—it was the feeling of being with him in a way she hadn’t let herself be before. They weren’t just two people in a messy situation anymore. They were together, and somehow, that felt like everything.

Chris’s hands continued their soft motions, fingers running down her arms, her back, every touch carrying a tenderness she hadn’t expected from him.

As she closed her eyes, leaning into him, she allowed herself to fully feel this moment. For the first time in a long while, everything felt right. Even with all the mess and the confusion, this felt real.

The quiet hum of the night surrounded them, only the soft sound of their breathing filling the space between them. After everything, after the confessions, the uncertainty, the words they’d finally spoken, it felt like nothing else mattered. Sleep was calling to them.

Chris gently pulled her into his arms, cradling her against his chest as they both settled into the bed. There was no more confusion now, no more second-guessing. Just the peaceful, steady rhythm of their hearts beating in sync. It wasn’t about rushing or rushing through anything. It wasn’t about labels, or anything they weren’t ready for. It was about being there, together, in that moment, with nothing but the comfort of each other’s presence.

He wrapped his arm around her waist, drawing her closer, and she nestled her head on his chest, the warmth of his body providing a sense of calm she hadn’t realised she’d been craving. They both let the silence wash over them, the weight of the day melting away. There were no more questions, no more what-ifs.

It was the kind of intimacy that didn’t demand anything more than just being—being present in each other’s arms, feeling the steady beat of their hearts, and letting the world outside slip into oblivion.

Her eyes fluttered shut as he kissed the top of her head softly, whispering something she couldn’t quite make out, but she didn’t need to hear it. The comfort of him was enough.

She fell asleep with the faintest smile on her face, and Chris stayed awake a little longer, his mind swimming with everything that had happened. With everything that was still unfolding. He had never been more sure of anything in his life. When he finally did fall asleep, it was on his own terms, smooth and steady, comfortable.

No melatonin needed.

thank you to rose for the dividers!! much love, @bernardsbendystraws <3

a/n: this is for gabs :>> i hope ur sleep schedule improves!! SPEAKING OF WHICH, i need to go tf to sleep.

taglist: @blushsturns @sturnslutz @snoopychris @hazedsturns @sturns-mermaid @chrissweetheart @cowboylikenat @camzeecorner @sturniolo101 @courta13 @sweetshuga @st7rnioioss @throatgoat4u @shadowthesim237 @emely9274 @sturnberries @bluestriips @lovergirl4gracieabrams @chrisslut04 @tezzzzzzzz @strnilolover comment to be added!

till next time <3

[lexirosewrites]

Day 12: Mating/Bonding

for @stmarchmm

The truly fucked up thing about it is that Eddie has been looking forward to this day for months.

Well, if he’s being technical about it, he’s been daydreaming about his and Steve’s bonding day since his sophomore year of high school.

There was a time in Eddie’s life when he would doodle “SH+EM” in his notebooks during math class, happier to plan an impossible future than learn how to graph slopes.

Maybe that’s why he failed his senior year twice.

He’ll never tell Wayne that the first time was actually on purpose.

Okay, sue him, he had a silly, embarrassing, massive fucking crush on the younger boy and he wanted to be in the same classes as him.

The second time Eddie failed, it was entirely because he couldn’t stop staring at the omega long enough to learn anything worth while.

Steve was worth failing for.

Wayne might have had some strong words about it if he knew, but it seems Eddie got away with that mortifying bit of trivia.

As it is, he managed to hide his fruitless crush for quite a while. At least until it wasn’t fruitless anymore.

In fact, it’s been very fruitful!

So much so that they’re holding a bonding ceremony today in front of all their friends and family in just a few minutes.

Eddie is going to commit his life and love to Steve, promise to protect him and their pack as alpha, and take a vow of faithfulness, til death do they part.

And that scares the absolute shit out of him.

Don’t misunderstand him, Eddie loves Steve beyond measurable words! He’s absolutely wonderful.

Steve is the most beautiful omega alive with the biggest heart and the tightest, wettest, juiciest pus—

He’s getting off track now and he has to focus.

Because if Eddie can’t get himself together and get out in front of a packed chapel in just a few minutes, it’s going to look like he doesn’t love Steve.

He’s afraid of lots of things in life.

Demobats, Robin, Dustin’s baking skills, Robin, ending up like his father, and most importantly, Robin.

But never of loving Steve. That’s the only thing he’s ever been 100% sure of.

And yet he is frozen in fear.

“Ed, it’s just about time to get things started. How ya feelin’ in here?”

Thank fuck for Wayne.

The only man (aside from Steve) who has ever been able to understand him.

Eddie doesn’t need to say a word about his current panic. All he has to do is turn to his uncle and his face says it all.

Wayne speaks fluent ‘Eddie.’

“Son, what’s on yer mind? That sweet boy of yers is getting all dolled up for ya right now and yer mind clearly ain’t there.”

“I’m going to do something to fuck this up and Steve won’t love me anymore,” Eddie blurts out.

There’s no point beating around the bush.

He’s been thinking about it all morning. Maybe longer than that. Maybe ever since Steve accepted his final courting gift and subsequent bonding proposal.

Part of him thought their entire courting was a cruel joke the universe was playing on him anyway.

Life has never been very fair to Eddie. He doesn’t waste time crying about it or whatever, but shit has always been unnecessary rough and he’s used to that.

But this was truly insane.

A perfect omega like Steve Harrington has no business even talking to an alpha like Eddie, let alone being courted by him.

The only reason he’d even started courting Steve is that Robin threatened to break his arm if he didn’t “man up and ask him out already, you lovesick loser!”

Robin really scares him.

But it had worked and they’ve been going steady ever since.

Every day feels like a dream and every morning Eddie wakes up expecting to find that it really was all a dream and he’s back dozing off in math class after doodling their initials in hearts again.

It’s a nightmare.

No, loving Steve doesn’t scare him, but the idea of potentially losing him terrifies Eddie.

“Well now, I think you’ve had too much time thinkin’ by yerself, kid. Ain’t a damn thing that could pull the two of ya apart, far as I can see. A sturdy axe and strong arm couldn’t split you boys up.”

Wayne’s words of wisdom always come from a place of love. And a simple explanation of life the way he views it.

Eddie’s not entirely sold on it yet, but he wants to believe that there’s hope for them.

He wants—no, needs— a life by Steve’s side more than anything else.

“That’s all fine and dandy, Wayne, but what about when I do something stupid and he realizes what kind of dumbass he’s mated to? What if he starts to hate me and he’s stuck with me?” Eddie challenges back.

Wayne sighs, coming forward to straighten the wrinkled lapels of Eddie’s jacket.

He meticulously smoothes them out from where Eddie was pulling at them nervously.

“Do you remember that time ya were supposed to pick Steve up for the movies and ya forgot ya had band practice that night?”

Oh god. That was one of Eddie’s lowest moments in life.

They both cried that night.

“Yeah, of course I do. I left Steve waiting in the rain and I felt terrible about it! Is that supposed to make me feel better or are you telling me that I’m right and I shouldn’t go through with this?”

Wayne gives him a look.

It’s the one that says he should shut up and listen.

He does.

“Ed, you’ve fucked up before. Ya left him in the rain, ya spilled ketchup on his favorite yellow shirt, ya tried to trim up his hair and took a big chunk out of it instead.”

Eddie wants to crawl under a rock and wait there until he’s dead and nobody can find him ever again.

“Yes, I get it! I’m stupid and reckless and I hurt the people I love! This pep talk sucks ass, Wayne.”

His uncle finally smiles. Such a weird old man. Proof that he’s a Munson.

“You’ve done just ‘bout everything ya can do to fuck things up and Steve still wants to be your mate, son. He loves ya.”

Oh.

Hmmm.

Yeah, that’s true. He has fucked up. On numerous occasions.

Never on purpose, but Steve has always forgiven him graciously regardless. That’s the kind of man he is.

Wayne wraps his arms around Eddie’s shoulders and pulls him close for a tight hug, like the old days.

“Steve isn’t going anywhere. He’s made that clear. Now ya need to honor that decision by pulling yer head out of yer ass and showing him that he’s making the right choice today. Go get yer boy, Ed,” Wayne whispers emphatically.

Eddie has to wipe away a few stray tears first.

Then he struts into that chapel with his head held high, a new confidence in his step.

When Steve walks down the aisle to meet him, he’s as beautiful as ever.

Clothed in pure white and a natural blush that makes Eddie want to do nasty things to his omega.

He’s ready for forever.

“Hi, baby.”

[impactrueno]

🪲Beetlejuice as Mephistopheles😈

so you guys might've seen that my masquerade comic has BJ wearing this funny little get up after people were expecting me to draw him wearing the Phantom's Red Death costume.

just who is Mephistopheles?

our devilishly charismatic fiend friend Mephisto is the reason we use the term "Faustian bargain" to refer to a deal with the devil. in the legend, Faust was an alchemist who ended up selling his soul to Mephistopheles in order to gain knowledge, power and pleasure. he is, quite literally, a trickster demon full of wit and a taste for irony looking to get something out of you. sound familiar?

of course, deals with the devil didn't originate with Faust, and neither did the trope of the devil being a charming and witty character. Faust just popularized it and greatly influenced later characters following this trope. Hades from Hercules is a pretty solid example, since he takes after Satan more than he does the actual Hades from greek mythology (which is on purpose, since the movie plays with christian elements for comedic effect, like the muses singing gospel and Hercules being like a combination of Jesus Christ Superstar and Superman.)

every now and then i see people complain that Lydia referring to Beetlejuice as a "trickster demon" in BJBJ messes with the lore, because "he's supposed to be a ghost," but he has always been more demon than ghost if you ask me. "trickster demon" is a perfect descriptor for him: he has a specific summoning ritual, powers beyond what normal ghosts can do, and is always always trying to tempt people into chaos and tricking them into making a deal. i'll give you knowledge, but your soul is mine. i'll save your loved ones, but you'll have to marry me.

despite this Beetlejuice and Mephistopheles are both funny characters, hardly menacing. doing fun little magic tricks and mocking wordplay, even though they can (and will) ruin your life. yet at the same time, they're not quite as evil as they might appear at first. it's always funny noting how Beetlejuice in the movies technically stuck to his word the entire time. surprisingly high level of integrity for someone like him, but that's part of why he's so great imo.

the scene in the original movie where Beetlejuice shows up as a circus attraction to get rid of the yuppies that came to Winter River to gentrify the town into a tourist trap is just the kind of thing Mephistopheles would do. same with how he gets rid of Rory in BJBJ, playing the role of the therapist to someone who used psychobabble to manipulate Lydia. ironic twists mocking human sins, that's what Beetlejuice is all about when he's punishing somebody, and it can all be traced back to Mephistopheles.

Mephistopheles is a proto-Beetlejuice, basically. or Beetlejuice is a modern Mephistopheles, however you want to look at it.

ok but why am i talking about this? well first of all, adhd. also this is one of my favorite character archetypes. i've always wanted to put my oc Rocky in a story where he's a Mephisto-type of figure. i used to think that the closest i got to that was when i crossovered him with Beetlejuice (you had to be there) but writing this post i...just remembered something. (feel free to skip the next paragraph, it has nothing to do with Beetlejuice lol)

i have this unfinished short story i started to write a while back, in mid 2018. i was miserable, going through a really bad depressive episode, and i was looking for something that could inspire me to create again and get back on my feet. just to practice and for shits and giggles i started writing a simple freeform story where a character named [redacted], who was a stand-in for myself, is suffering from writers block despite not being a writer, and basically wants to be good at writing. while muttering something about how he'd even "make a deal with the devil to become a good writer," he accidentally ends up summoning "the devil" (it's just Rocky) who's all silly and charismatic and offering him a deal. what i wrote ends there, i never finished it. but very soon after that, i rediscovered The Simpsons and started writing Those Springfield Kids. fast forward to a few years later, my SpringKids versions of the characters end up becoming part of an official couch gag animated by The Simpsons team. so. i guess...the deal worked? spooky lol (my Faustian downsides are 1. i can never finish anything i start and 2. i'm stuck here in Venezuela.)

anyway! i originally wrote this as a thread on twitter so i could introduce people to Mephistopheles since i was going to make a reference in the masquerade comic with BJ's costume. i just added a little bit more stuff (and the personal anecdote above) in this post. i would've posted this much earlier but on the day i was going to do it, my blog got nuked. now that i got it back, i can post this!

bonus: the shin megami tensei version of mephistopheles, plus david who is a reference to camille saint-saëns Danse Macabre, which i've ALSO referenced in my beetlejuice stuff a couple of times

ty for reading

next time i yap like this it'll be about the gravediggers from hamlet and how they're another core beetlejuice archetype. ESPECIALLY musical beetlejuice.

[pitchsidestories]

The Little Lioness II Keira Walsh x Reader

romantic masterlist | platonic masterlist | word count: 2008

summary: Keira steps in as a stepmother for Reader's child. requested

author's note: Hey everyone, we had a great time writing this oneshot, and we hope you enjoy reading it. As always, your feedback is very appreciated ! 💗

disclaimer: everything in this fanfiction is purely fictional and nothing corresponds to reality.

You knew it was a good idea. You and Keira had been on a few dates already and it went extremely well between the two of you. So, it was only reasonable that it was time for Keira to finally meet your daughter from your previous relationship.

Still, the thought made you a bit nervous. For the past two years, it had only been you and her. And even though she said she was thrilled to meet Keira, you weren’t fully convinced that your toddler had understood what that meant for your family.

But Keira didn’t have to know. So, you kept a polite smile on your lips when you opened the door to your flat and greeted her with a kiss on the cheek.

“Lou’s so excited to meet you, Kei.”

“I can’t wait to meet her either.”, she said, her own smile a bit wobbly. For some reason, seeing Keira being nervous too, calmed you a bit.

You asked her in and called for your daughter: “Lou, we have a visitor.”

You heard her close the picture book she was reading with force and jump up from the sofa. She came running within seconds, her eyes wide with curiosity.

They even turned a bit rounder when she laid eyes on Keira. Her mouth dropped open in a small o-shape.

“A lioness…”, she whispered quietly to herself.

“Hi, uhm… I’m Keira.”, the football player waved awkwardly, clearly surprised by her reaction.

Lou nodded happily: “I know, mum talks a lot about you.”

You felt the blood rush into your cheeks instantly: “I promise it’s actually a normal amount.”

Keira grinned at you with raised eyebrows before turning back to your daughter: “Well… she talks a lot about you too.”

This time you couldn’t deny it. “I do.”, you admitted.

“Really?”, Lou asked, still not tearing her gaze away from Keira.

The football player nodded, seemingly becoming more confident around your child.

“Yes, like how you love football training with your friends and that you love to draw in your free time.”, she told her.

“Oh.”, was all Lou could say. Her facial expression was somewhere between impressed and overwhelmed, but you were convinced that she liked getting Keira’s attention.

As if Keira could read your mind, she smiled at your daughter: “We can play some football later. Only if you want to of course.”

Without missing a beat, Lous entire face lit up and she bridged the gap to Keira to hug her. Lou was only tall enough to wrap her arms around Keira's thighs, which made for a funny picture. You chuckled quietly.

“Of course I want.”, your toddler nodded enthusiastically.

With a reassuring smile, you whispered in your girlfriend’s ear: “You’re doing great.”

“Thanks,” Keira muttered gratefully, a shy grin appearing on her lips.

When you noticed your daughter already on her way to grab her little football boots, you reminded her: “But we’ll have dinner first before playing football.”

“Ugh, Mum,” Lou groaned, clearly annoyed.

You looked at her apologetically. “Sorry.”

After dinner, Keira and Lou were in their element, passing the ball back and forth and cheering when the ball landed in the small goal. You couldn’t help but admire the beauty of the moment.

Normally, you were the one taking photos at women’s football matches, capturing everyone in a good light. But this time, they encouraged you to play with them, which was a fun change of pace.

Time flew by as the three of you had fun together. By sunset, when Lou started to get tired, you all headed back home.

To both your and Keira's surprise, Lou, now ready for bed, asked, “Mum, can Keira bring me to bed tonight?”

“Sure, love,” you replied, her question warming your heart.

The midfielder turned to you nervously. “What do I have to do?”

On the pitch, she knew exactly what to do—organizing and dictating the play for both her team and the opposition. However, when it came to putting a young girl to bed, she had no experience.

“Usually, she just reads from her picture book,” you explained, giving her an encouraging squeeze on the shoulder.

The footballer stepped into the child’s room and was immediately charmed by the way it was decorated. In the centre of the room stood a bed that looked like a tent, softly illuminated by a string of lights.

As Keira and your daughter settled in, the midfielder noticed the starry mobile hanging above their heads. This is magical, she thought to herself, feeling a sense of wonder. The cozy atmosphere calmed her as she began reading aloud from the picture book.

Amazed, Lou glanced at Keira. “I love your hair.”

“You do? I didn’t straighten it today,” the older woman said, flustered by the attention. She ran her fingers through her curly hair, trying to regain her composure.

 “It looks a bit like mine,” your daughter realised in awe.

Your girlfriend confirmed with a smirk, “Yes, it does.”

“That’s so cool,” Lou yawned, a happy expression spreading across her little face.

“Yeah, I think so too.”

Smiling fondly at her, Keira tucked your daughter in before quietly closing the door behind her as she left the room.

Watching your girlfriend walk toward you, looking tired but content, you questioned, delighted: “Worked well, huh?”

“Very, she was asleep in no time.”, Keira nodded, a slight hint of pride in her voice.

You winked at her: “Must have been the football session earlier.”

“Maybe.”

You considered Keira for a moment and took a step closer to her, quietly changing the topic: “Do you want to stay here tonight?”

You would fully understand if she said no, if it was too much already. So you weren’t too surprised when her eyebrows knotted together, forming a little crease.

“Is that okay? For her too?”, she asked.

You blinked at your girlfriend, speechless. You hadn’t expected such a thoughtful answer at all.

“Yes, we talked about it earlier and she said it would be okay for her.”, you finally replied, suppressing the overwhelming urge to kiss Keira right there.

She smiled, nodding slowly: “Okay then, I would like to stay.”

You pressed a quick kiss to her lips and led her to the bedroom.

As it turned out, your initial anxiety had been unfounded. Lou had embraced Keiras presence in your life and the two quickly became inseparable. Watching those two together, your heart always did a little happy jump. You could have never imagined that it would be that easy.

Lou had a deep admiration for Keiras football skills too. So when Keira surprised the two of you with tickets to the England vs. Spain game at Wembley, and even asked Lou to be her mascot for the game, your daughter was completely smitten.

While you took your seat among the 46,550 fans in the stadium, Lou was excitedly bouncing next to Keira in the players tunnel. With a quick grasp of her hand, she had Keira's full attention: “Mum?”

Keiras had snapped towards the little girl: “Mum? I’m Keira. Your mum is waiting for you outside.”

Lous little face shifted into a frown: “Should I call you mami then?”

Keiras eyes widened: “What? Wait, are you calling me your mum?”

“Yes.”, Lou nodded like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Not only Keira was surprised. Her England teammates turned towards the pair, holding their breaths.

“Wow, that’s big.”, Leah mouthed in awe.

In contrast to her, Lucy covered her mouth with a fist in order to stifle her laughter as she watched Keira struggle for words.

“I uhm… I think I like mum.”, she stammered.

Lou seemed satisfied with the answer and gave a court nod: “Me too.”

Keira cleared her throat, pointing towards the field: “Ready to go out?”

"Ready," the little girl beamed at her.

An amused grin tugged at Lucy’s lips as she tapped the midfielder’s shoulder. “Hey, Kei, that kid’s amazing.”

“Yeah, she is,” your girlfriend agreed, a warm smile lighting up her face as she gazed affectionately at her special mascot for the night.

The football player tried to see the world through your child’s eyes—the dazzling fireworks, the pitch bathed in floodlights, and the grandeur of the stadium.

A few minutes later, the national hymns were sung, and each team gathered in a circle. Leah slipped into her captain mode, clapping her hands with energy. “Let’s beat Spain, girls. Lou, you’d love that, right?”

"Yes, go Kei!" she shouted, her voice bubbling with excitement.

Quickly, Keira knelt down, taking Lou’s hand and nodding toward your direction. "Run back to Mum, okay? I’ll meet you after the game."

"Okay, good luck," Lou replied, squeezing her hand one last time before darting straight into your open arms.

A wide smile spread across your daughter’s face as she bounced up and down, practically vibrating with excitement. "Mum! Did you see us?"

"Yes, did you enjoy it, Lou?" you asked, feeling her joy rub off on you. Without missing a beat, she began to rave, "I loved it! Keira is so cool."

"She is," you agreed, pausing before quietly confessing, "I love her." Exhilarated, Lou added, "And she said she’ll be my mum too."

"Really? That’s sweet," you replied, your voice thick with emotion as you tried to hold back happy tears. You realized, in that moment, that you hadn’t just found a girlfriend, but also a second mum for your beloved daughter.

The match continued with intensity. Suddenly, Lou jumped out of her seat, raising her arms in celebration. "A goal from Jess!"

"That’s great," you told her, sharing her enthusiasm.

After the match, the two of you made your way down to the pitch to meet Keira and her teammates.

Unlike the midfielder, Lou wasn’t shy around adults. She approached one of the defenders with wide, animated gestures. "Lucy! Did you see the blackouts?!"

"Yeah, weird, right? Were you scared?" Lucy raised an eyebrow playfully.

"A bit," Lou admitted, trying to appear casual in front of the older woman. "But when everyone turned on their smartphone lights, that was beautiful."

"Yeah, that was pretty amazing," the defender agreed with a smile.

"Oh, yes.”, the small girl continued, nodding enthusiastically.

While Lou made a new friend, Keira wrapped her arms around you and pulled you in for a celebratory hug. With your chin resting on her shoulder you paused, taking it all in.

“Wow, you hug her but not me, Kei?”, a familiar voice interrupted.

You looked up to see your girlfriends captain grinning at her.

Keira let go of you and rolled her eyes: “Why would I hug you?”

“Yeah, okay, fine. Lovers first.”, Leah winked , her smirk only making your girlfriend groan in annoyance.

“Leah, we’ve been in camp together the whole time.”, she said plainly, letting her best friend subtly know that she had seen enough of her.

The defender continued to tease her: “Yeah, and I know you missed her and Lou terribly.”

“Is that true?”, you asked, turning to Keira.

Her cheeks reddened slightly: “I mean…”

A soft smile tugged on your lips: “It’s okay, we missed you too.”

You pressed a quick kiss to the corner of her mouth, completely unaware that Lou had appeared on your side, tugging on Keiras hand.

“Keira, when are you coming home again?”, she asked, her voice quiet but hopeful.

“Very soon. It was our last game of this camp.”, your girlfriend explained, stroking your daughters hair.

“Great.”, she smiled, seemingly happy with her answer.

“So probably around dinner time tomorrow.”

Lous eyes went big: “Promise?”

“Promise.”, Keira nodded gently.

She scooped Lou up with ease, carrying her across the grass while they both waved to the fans that remained in the stadium. You heart felt like it was about to jump out of your chest.

In this moment, surrounded by the echoes of celebrating fans, you realised that after all the time spent alone with Lou, you never imagined someone could complete your little family the way Keira did.

image sources: pinterest

[cherrycranes]

Pervert (John x Fem!Reader) [+18]

Pairing: John (Intermission) x female reader Summary: Your best friend John hates seeing you go out with other men but not with him... Guess he'll have to console himself with your used panties... Word count: 2,098 Contents: (Minors DNI) Panty-stealing, pervert John, best friend John with an unrequited crush on reader, incelish John, spit, panty-smelling, panty-licking, panty-sucking, male masturbation. Author's notes: What? Cherry can write fics by herself???? Rare, I know, but I got possessed by this one. i know this one wasn't on the schedule but dw, my bestie and I are still cooking the promised collabs, so stay tuned for more ;).

For the love of God, somebody please help poor, stupid, desperate John. He was not a catch, or charming; he was good-looking but it was not enough. He couldn’t even win the girl he liked over.

Fundamentally, he was fucked. But actually, he was as celibate as a nun.

It stung. You were so pretty but you always went for some other random guys when John was right there. Quite literally, as he sat on your living room couch drinking a beer and barely watching the movie you had put on. For now, he was your friend. A best friend, to add more salt to the wound. A guy you watched movies with, talked about your problems with and always found out first about your one-night stands and shitty situationships with other men.  

It drove him nuts. 

You sat comfortably on the other end of the couch, watching Pretty Woman for the hundredth time in your life, already too immersed in the plot to even notice John getting up. He headed to your bathroom, already familiarized with your house. 

In about an hour, your latest scumbag would come to pick you up and take you to a most likely disappointing date. John scoffed quietly at the thought, pretending for a moment that he was pissing on that fucker instead of your toilet. What did you even see in him? He had heard rumors of that guy, how he had cheated on his last girlfriend with another ex he had ALSO cheated on. It was messy. And the talent you possessed to always pick the worst fucking guys? EVEN MESSIER.

With a sigh, he zipped up his jeans and flushed the thoughts about that guy away. Why did he even bother? You loved scumbags. And yes, John was not exactly Prince Charming, but he wasn’t serially cheating on every woman in town. And that wasn’t enough for your poor taste in men.

He was willing to let that go. To swallow his jealousy like always and watch you get into the douche’s car to go get plowed while he slept alone in his flat. But the more he tried to forget about it, the more it beckoned him to do something. Ideas of renting a porn film or just going out to a pub to drink himself into numbness popped into his head as he stepped out of the bathroom when suddenly, a brightly colored piece of fabric caught his attention from the corner of his eye.

Standing out shamelessly at the top of your hamper like a cheeky little cherry, was a sexy pair of red panties. Your used red panties. 

Oh, this was evil. He wouldn’t. He shouldn’t! Even though he pined for you, he did not want to be an absolute creep. But, God forgive him, it drew him. It called for him…

Maybe… If you didn’t notice… It wouldn’t be so bad… You wouldn’t miss one pair…

Quickly, like the thief he had been in the past, he swiped the red fabric and shoved it down his pocket, he then went back to the living room with you, pretending to not feel guilt.

The minutes ticked by in slow motion, the red fabric of your underwear felt red hot and scorching in his pocket. The knowledge that you were there, right next to him, completely clueless and unaware of the perversion he was doing sent both strikes of adrenaline and arousal through him. Fuck, if this didn’t turn him on…

John shifted a little on the couch, trying to hide his growing hard-on and pretending to pay attention to the movie until your douchebag of the month knocked on your door and it was time to leave. 

What a fucking ass, John thought as his eyes raked once over your date, the gut feeling the guy gave him nearly making him sick. John could already picture you crying on his shoulder once again when this son of a bitch wronged you, but alas, it was your choice. 

John neutrally said goodbye to you and walked away, heart pounding madly in his chest with every step he took. It felt like he had a bright neon sign pointing toward his back pocket where your stolen panties hid. Look, look what your supposed best friend is doing, see how perverted and gross he is, his remains of guilt yelled inside his head. The fear of being caught and cut off from your life for doing this weighed heavier than morality itself. Yet, he quite liked it. 

He acted naturally, as much as he could, trying to not think much about the stupid chit-chat you were having with your new bloke. He didn’t deserve you, it was clear from just hearing you two talk. John kept going, his palms sweating, praying you would not notice what he stole from you.

When he heard you two get into the douchebag’s car and drive off John felt a rush of triumph, your panties had been successfully taken and you were none the wiser. His pulse still raced until he was finally home, locked in his flat and safe from anybody’s gaze.

“Shit…” John exclaimed, his hands shaky from the adrenaline. He reached towards his back pocket and sighed in delight when he felt your undies' soft fabric and lace. Like a kid with a brand-new toy, he yanked it out and filled his curious gaze with it. 

They were red, sexy but comfortable, with lace around the edges, and, to John’s depraved fascination, they were damp on the crotch area. Probably your discharge or, he dared to indulge, your arousal?... God, it better be. It was still quite fresh, you definitely had changed underwear right before he went to your place.

He pictured you during that morning, laying in bed, only wearing these and nothing else, dampening them from just how needy you were. He saw visions of your fingers rubbing over the fabric just to tease yourself, little moans spilling from your lips, and, since this was his fantasy, moaning out his name, of course. 

John couldn’t even wait to take this to his bedroom, he sat on his couch, inspecting your panties as he decided what to do with them. It was a world of possibilities…

First things first, he was curious. And like a curious animal, he needed to smell first… He put the garment closer to his nose and took a tentative whiff, groaning at your scent: heady, feminine, mouthwatering… 

He swallowed thickly, taking a deep breath this time, pressing the tip of his nose against the still-wet patch and closing his eyes in adoration. Oh, your pussy smelled so good. 

Slowly, imagining this was your cunt, he let his warm tongue out and moaned when the tip touched the damp fabric. He tasted you, licked you, something so intimate and private now dancing on his taste buds. His palm held the crotch area of your panties like a canvas, allowing him to paint every single inch with his spit. He moaned again. If you ever found out he did this he would be fried. 

With lust, greed, and gluttony, he shoved your underwear in his mouth, muffling out his groan of pleasure. His saliva combined with your fluids, dampened the fabric further. He sucked on it like a tit, milking your flavor out deliciously and swallowing with need. 

It was heaven, sinful, debauched heaven where the possibility of devouring your sweet little cunt was at arm’s length. John’s mouth sucked and juiced every drop of your essence, his cock throbbing insistently in his jeans.

A hand fumbled its way to his zipper, reaching in to take out his dick. The tip was red and sensitive already, dripping with precum. Your panties in his mouth functioned like a gag as he palmed his cock, muffling out his groans and whimpers, when another perverted idea flashed through his mind and turned into a desperate need.

John pulled your underwear out of his mouth, swallowing all the spit that had gathered in there, and without shame, he plastered the wet, red fabric on his right hand and wrapped it around his aching dick. 

Lubricated by his spit and whatever was left of your fluids and beautifully hugged by your damp panties, John started to masturbate, the thrill of taboo pumping in his veins and making him twitch in his hand. 

“Fuck…” He groaned, thinking of you. You were too fucking pretty for all those fuckers. He knew that well. You had such a beautiful face, and a body that he died to caress, grab, and squeeze with those big greedy hands of his. 

His living room echoed with the slapping sounds of him pumping his cock, now fueled by images of your cleavage. He wondered everything. What color were your nipples? How fast would they harden once he latched his mouth on them? How would you react if he pinched and twisted them? Oh, he moaned from the idea, beating it faster.

With his mind rushing, he immediately jumped onto the next train of thought: what would it be like to fuck you? He saw you, laying naked, legs spread open, your dripping pussy offered up to him like a banquet. He would go insane if he ever had it in front of him. What he had just done to your panties was nothing in comparison to the things his hungry mouth would do to your cunt. He would devour, slurp, suck, stretch, and tongue-fuck the slut out of you, make you so addicted to his touch that you would never feel the need to date shitty men ever again. Make you so addicted that you finally see he is the only one for you.

He groaned in pure, devoted pleasure, purposefully smearing the tip of his dick all over your panties, trying to mark his territory in a way. 

You were meant to be his. You had to be his. His balls tightened from the need to make you his own. He beat it faster, madder, gripping your undies around his cock tightly and imagining it was your pussy surrounding him. John would give up anything just to be buried deep inside you, fuck you hard and fast into the mattress until all you could do was drool and babble his name. 

“Fuck!” John cried out, the image did it for him. He kept pumping himself fast as spurts of cum stained your crumpled-up panties, serving as the perfect cum rag. He worked himself through it, still yearning for your tits, ass, and cunt until his entire load smeared all over your undies. 

John kept it there, refusing to let go of something so you. His chest rose and fell with each heavy breath he took, and, for a moment, he felt you, all of you, surrounding not only his spent cock but also his entire being. He truly, deeply yearned to feel this forever, with you involved and reciprocating.

Finally, he detached your panties from his cock and used them to wipe off any excess cum. He would have to wash them and dry them as soon as possible, go visit you first thing tomorrow, and discreetly place them back in your hamper. He felt confident in pulling it. If he was able to take them easily…

That night John slept like a baby, dreams of you taking over as your panties hung to dry in his bedroom. In the morning he called you, just to casually ask you if he could go to your place to hang out. As soon as you said yes he got ready, shoving your panties in his pocket once again 

The same rush of adrenaline from yesterday pumped in his veins as he entered your front door, seeing your face again after such a perverted night sending shame, guilt, and desire all in one through him. How was he able to sit on your couch and talk with you as your stolen, defiled panties hid in his back pocket? How could he still consider himself your best friend when he was such a pervert?

He made time to not look suspicious, having to sit through the details of your own activities last night. Your date with the asshole went well but he didn’t want to know that. After an understandable and very normal time, he excused himself to the bathroom to finally return what he had taken, but it was that simple action that reminded you of something…

“Oh! John, by the way… By any chance did you take something from my bathroom yesterday?”

A little pinterest board made by me inspired by this lol

[ladykailitha]

Forever Young Part 1

Hello, my lovies! I'm on with yet another AU! I can't stop, won't stop until I'm dead. The ideas just keep coming.

This was supposed to be lighthearted and funny aaannndd it got hit by the angst train HARD! Like that meme with the bus on the tracks and getting hit by the train? Yeah, that's this fic in a nutshell. It seems I can't write Steve without exploring his childhood and for me that's always going to be a traumatic thing.

Summary: Dustin sneaks into Steve's house to try and convince him to take him to Indy, but when he walks into his bedroom, Steve isn't there. Or rather the Steve Harrington he knows and loves. For hiding in the closet is a scared five year old claiming to be his friend. Then news starts coming in from Will and Mike, Nancy and Jonathan have been changed into kids too. Robin and Eddie make the full set, so the six younger teens have balance watching kids and finding out how to reverse it. And what happens if they can't find the cure in time?

~

Look, Dustin knew he shouldn’t be using the hide-a-key to break into Steve’s house, but he really needed to have Steve take him to Indy and if he just bundled him up and got him out the door with shoes on his feet and keys and wallet in hand it was easier to get him to agree to such a long drive.

So he looked around to make sure no one was watching and then went straight for the third paving stone and lifted it up. He quickly worked free the key and set the stone back down.

He slipped into the house and quickly scanned the house to make sure that Steve was in fact still sleeping. With being a former jock, there were times Steve would already be up and having gone for a run, and Dustin would be stymied for the day.

But there was no coffee brewing, no shoes by the door and no Steve on the ground floor. Dustin rubbed his hands together. Excellent.

He snuck up the stairs and threw open the door to startle Steve awake.

Only Steve wasn’t there. The bed was clearly slept in and the car was still in the driveway. Had he gone on a run and just wasn’t back yet?

Then he heard sniffles coming from the closet. Dustin frowned and walked toward it carefully. He opened the door and suddenly had to duck a shoe being thrown at his head.

“Ow!” he cried when it clipped his shoulder. “What the fuck Steve?” But the person in front of him was not Steve. It was some five year old kid looking up at him in absolute terror.

“Who are you?” Dustin hissed, bending over to pick up the shoe. “And what are you doing in Steve’s house?”

“I’m Steve!” the boy insisted. “But this is not my house! I woke up in this room with clothes that were too big for me and no one was home and I’m scared.”

Dustin blinked down at the child for a moment as he tried to think about when Steve moved to Hawkins and what his parents names were. “So where do you live?”

The little boy looked him in the eye with tears welling up and his lip quivering. “I’m not supposed to tell.”

Dustin worked his mouth, but no words came out. Because the kid was right. He wasn’t supposed to talk to strangers. “I’m Dustin. I’m just trying to find your mom. Can you tell me your mom’s name?”

Little Steve looked up at him skeptically and then frowned. “You’ll help me find her?” Dustin nodded. “Her name is Maureen Harrington, my daddy’s name is Clint.” His face lit up. “I know my phone number. Maybe I can call home!”

“Like ET!” Dustin cried. “ET phone home!” But the kid stared him in confusion. “What, you’ve never seen ET! Like it’s awesome!”

Little Steve shook his head. “Like can I use the phone now?”

“Uh...” Dustin hedged. “I guess. Steve keeps a phone in his bedroom. It should be on his desk.”

Little Steve crawled out of the closet and eyed Dustin warily as he passed. Dustin followed the little boy’s path with his eyes as the kid picked up the phone. Immediately it went a busy signal, the sound loud in the quiet of the early morning.

Little Steve looked at the time and then back at the phone in his hand. “Daddy won’t be up for another half hour and Mommy never gets up before ten, why is the phone busy.”

Dustin’s brain finally caught up with everything the kid had said since he opened the door to the closet. Clint and Maureen Harrington. Living in Indy. The line being busy.

“Holy shit!”

Steve turned around with the phone in his hand. “Mommy says that’s a bad word, but Daddy says it all the time.”

Dustin ran through all the possibilities in his head. “It’s Occam’s Razor or to quote Sherlock Holmes: ‘When you have eliminated all which is impossible, then whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.'”

“You’re weird.”

“Oh, kid you have no idea,” Dustin said solemnly. “You have no idea. But I have to get ahold of some friends and pray to whatever deity is out there that you’re an isolated incident.”

“What’s ice oh lated innocent?” Little Steve asked, cocking his head to the side.

Dustin sighed. “And there it is.” That stupid little head tilt Steve did when he was confused about something. Fuuuuckk. “It means a one off. Something that happened one time.”

Steve frowned but said nothing, so Dustin took it as confirmation he understood, because he was about to panic. He started searching the room, until he found what he was looking for. Steve’s walkie talkie.

“Lucas, Mike, Will,” Dustin hissed into the device. “Come in. Code...” he looked over at Little Steve staring up at him in wide-eyed innocence. “Code Red. Come in, over.”

All three of his friends immediately came on and sound off that they were there.

“What’s the Code Red, over?” Mike asked once everyone had sounded off.

“Steve is a literal child,” Dustin said, breathlessly. “As in he went to bed a nineteen year old man and now he’s four-ish.” He waved his hand back and forth with a grimace.

“Hey!” Little Steve protested, clenching his little fists and stomping his foot. “I’m five! I’m not some baby!”

Dustin looked over at him and his eyebrows shot up. “That’s new.” Then into the walkie talkie he said. “I’m also making sure Steve’s the only one we have this problem with.”

There was silence on the line for a beat or two before Mike and Will hissed out, “Shit!”

“Why does everyone get to swear but me?” Steve pouted, sitting on the bed and crossing his arms. He glared up at Dustin, who just rolled his eyes.

Dustin let out a pained sigh and wondered how much he should tell him.

“Uh...” Lucas said into the walkie, “but I’m guessing if Mike and Will come back with a yes their older siblings are in fact small children, someone should check up on Robin and Eddie? Over.”

Dustin pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, but I don’t know how we’re going to get there. None of us drive and Joyce and Hopper are out of town, over.”

“Code Red!” Will shrieked. “Jonathan is a kid and he’s hiding from our dad, absolutely refusing to come out for anyone but Mom!”

Then Mike was crackling through the line, sounding already harried. “I now have two baby sisters and judging from the photos Mom keeps everywhere, I’d say Nancy is around four, which considering Holly is five, is just too weird, man. Over.”

“Well, fuck,” Dustin said bluntly. “Lucas was thinking that Robin and Eddie might be affected too.”

“What’s fuck?” Steve asked from the bed, looking a little too curious for Dustin’s nerves.

Dustin turned to the walkie talkie and just screamed: “HELP!”

~

Lucas managed to get everyone calmed down and it was decided that everyone meet up at Steve’s because there would be enough rooms for all of them to sleep in and they could keep it as quiet as possible. Especially since they didn’t didn’t know if this was Upside down related.

He also tried to Max to find Eddie and take him to her place before Wayne got home.

“No can do,” she replied. “He already knows and since we need someone to drive us around to get things for five four year olds as well as picking up Robin, it might as well be him.”

No one liked that plan, but what choice did they have when Wayne already knew his nephew was now a child?

They grudgingly agreed and allowed Wayne to ferry them all to Steve’s house, which he did so borrowing Eddie’s van.

Once they were all together (El had helped Jonathan come out from under the bed with her telepathy) Wayne patted Dustin on the shoulder.

“I have to go to work,” he said sternly. “I am trusting you older kids to take care of your friends. As best as we can tell they don’t have their adult memories, but if they do start to return, it will probably come in the form of nightmares.”

Mike and Lucas shared a glance. They knew. Night terrors were just a part of kids’ life at that age. They nodded.

“All right,” Wayne said with a sigh. “I’ll try and stop by Melvin’s on the way home for like food and stuff. The main thing they need right now are clothes that fit. The girls will be easy because they can borrow Holly’s things. But the boys are going to be tough unless your parents saved any of your clothes from that age.”

The four boys looked over at Steve, Jonathan, and Eddie all in clothes that were positively drowning them.

Dustin turned back to Wayne. “Even if my Ma did save my shit, they wouldn’t fit any of them. They’re all skinny!”

“Shit,” Eddie repeated with a giggle. “That’s a funny word.”

Wayne snorted. “Yes it is, but what did I say at the trailer, boy?”

Eddie looked up at Wayne, wide-eyed, almost as if he had forgotten he was there. “Swears are big people words.” He frowned for a moment. “But they say swears.” He pointed at Dustin specifically to Wayne’s utter delight.

Wayne just shook his head. “I can’t help it if their mama never raised them right.”

“You take that back!” Dustin cried. “My Ma is the best!” He put his hands on his hips.

Wayne just raised an eyebrow and ruffled Dustin’s hair. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. I’ve left the number to the plant on the fridge. When you call ask for Bill and then have Bill come get me. Anyone else and they’re gonna laugh in your face.”

“Aye, aye!” Lucas said brightly. “Hopefully we’ll be fine. We’ve already told our parents we’re having a movie night sleepover and to not expect us home tonight.”

“That still leaves what happens if this doesn’t resolve itself by tomorrow,” Mike groused. “But if it does, we have someone else we can call.”

El made a face. “I do not trust Dr. Owens,” she huffed, crossing her arms.

Mike rubbed her arm gently. “I know, but if it is Upside Down related, maybe he can help, okay?”

El nodded, but Wayne could see she didn’t like the idea. Wayne wasn’t a fan of the man himself, if he was being honest. Anyone who would experiment on children, no matter how nice they appeared was not someone to be trusted.

“Last resort only,” Wayne said with a nod. Then he said his goodbyes and left for work.

Dustin ran his hands over his face and groaned. “I don’t know how to talk to kids that age. I’m an only child.”

Lucas shrugged. “It’s not that difficult really. You just have to keep them fed, make sure they nap, and give them things to do. We’ll want to avoid the back though. Because I don’t how many of them would know how to swim at this stage.”

Steve was probably a good bet that he knew how to swim, Nancy too. But the other three? That was up in the air.

“So keep them away from the back, feed them, make sure they get enough sleep and try not kill them in the mean time?” Will asked, his voice high with concern.

“Pretty much,” Mike assured him. “There are more of us then there are of them, we should be fine.”

Max raised her hand slowly. “Uh, guys...um. I hate to ask but has anyone seen Steve?”

Dustin whirled around and quickly did a head count. Nancy, Robin, and Jonathan were all playing with a ball in the corner and Eddie had found a marker and was drawing on himself.

But Steve was nowhere to be seen.

“Shit!”

~

Cliffhanger!!! Bwahahaha!!!

Tag List: TEN SLOTS REMAINING

1- @itsall-taken @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @sadisticaltarts @dolphincliffs

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @irregular-child @cryptid-system @kultiras

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @dreamercec @blondie1006

5- @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @genderless-spoon @fearieshadow @thesecondfate

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

[saintsenara]

Thoughts on Peter Pettigrew? And if you ship him with anyone, who?

thank you very much for the ask, pal! peter is a fascinating character and i always enjoy properly thinking about him.

because - let's be honest - he really goes under the radar, in both canon and fanon. he's extraordinarily cunning, ruthless, powerful, adaptable, emotionally literate, intelligent…

and yet you wouldn't get that impression if you take harry's narrative at face value. even after peter escapes at the end of prisoner of azkaban/cuts his own hand off in goblet of fire.

[which is one of harry's most interesting character traits - his tendency to split the world into black-and-white "good people" and "bad people" is something we talk about a lot, but he also has a tendency to split the world into "special people, who have agency" and "unspecial people, who don't"... hence his attitude to characters such as stan shunpike.]

but the main thing i find fascinating about peter isn't actually the way his talents are overlooked by the text. it's the way he embodies one of the series' central messages: that "it does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live" [PS 12].

when dumbledore says this to harry, it's as advice on how to deal productively with grief. and obviously that's a good and healthy message to receive - especially for the children who are philosopher's stone's intended audience.

but the statement has another application, which ties to another one of the series' themes: that all that glitters is not gold.

so much of the overarching seven-book narrative is about jealousy and longing - harry's longing for a family, ron's jealousy of harry's fame, petunia's longing for magic and jealousy of lily, snape's longing for lily and jealousy of james, etc.

and it's also about how this jealousy and longing leads us to see what we want to see - ron becoming convinced that harry's feelings for hermione are romantic, lupin's inability to criticise james leading to his rage when harry's appalled at him walking out on tonks, the death eaters being convinced that voldemort is a champion of pureblood oligarchy, fudge refusing to believe that voldemort has returned etc.

as both ron and harry learn after ron stabs the locket-horcrux, you have to live the life you actually have and you have to know the people you know as they actually are. you can't imagine them into something they're not, become sad and/or angry when they fail to meet expectations it was always impossible for them to fulfil, and then let that sadness and anger fester until the poison within you can no longer be contained...

which is the peter pettigrew special, really...

sirius' assessment of peter in prisoner of azkaban comes in clutch for us on this point:

"Because you never did anything for anyone unless you could see what was in it for you. Voldemort's been in hiding for fifteen years, they say he's half dead. You weren't about to commit murder right under Albus Dumbledore's nose, for a wreck of a wizard who'd lost all of his power, were you? You'd want to be quite sure he was the biggest bully in the playground before you went back to him, wouldn't you?" [PoA 19]

i love this line for a lot of reasons - especially sirius' tacit admission that he and james once met that criteria of "biggest bully in the playground" - but i particularly like the way it aligns peter with [dumbledore's assessment of] voldemort's school friends:

"As he moved up the school, he gathered about him a group of dedicated friends; I call them that, for want of a better term, although as I have already indicated, Riddle undoubtedly felt no affection for any of them. This group had a kind of dark glamour within the castle. They were a motley collection; a mixture of the weak seeking protection, the ambitious seeking some shared glory, and the thuggish gravitating toward a leader who could show them more refined forms of cruelty. In other words, they were the forerunners of the Death Eaters, and indeed some of them became the first Death Eaters after leaving Hogwarts." [HBP 17]

peter is fundamentally someone ambitious seeking shared glory. and he does this - like, it's implied, quite a lot of death eaters - by putting on his rose-tinted glasses and deluding himself into believing that the person he expects to share that glory with him actually will share it... until everything comes crashing down and he's forced to see that they actually think of him as unworthy of sharing anything with. and his fury becomes toxic.

because peter is someone who inherently views himself as a follower.

lord voldemort would never - to borrow sirius' phrase - do something for someone else unless he could see what was in it for him. but voldemort's selfishness is because he sees himself as the unparalleled superior of everyone he meets - there's no need to help those under you if they're the only people who benefit!

peter's selfishness is slightly different - everything he does is in pursuit of vicarious glory. he wants to be praised and rewarded by a leader he's made more powerful. he doesn't want to be that leader himself.

peter the marauder

indeed, canon emphasises that this is what attracted him to james and sirius:

To Sirius' right stood Pettigrew, more than a head shorter, plump and watery-eyed, flushed with pleasure at his inclusion in this coolest of gangs, with the much-admired rebels that James and Sirius had been. [DH 10]

obviously this is harry's subjective view ["much-admired rebels" is a bit of a stretch, let's be real…], which the text does acknowledge ["or was it simply because harry knew how it had been, that he saw these things in the picture?"].

but harry's assessment of the teenage peter here matches the one we're given across the series:

"Pettigrew... that fat little boy who was always tagging around after them at Hogwarts?" said Madam Rosmerta. "Hero-worshipped Black and Potter," said Professor McGonagall. "Never quite in their league, talent-wise." [PoA 10]

James was still playing with the Snitch, letting it zoom farther and farther away, almost escaping but always grabbed at the last second. Wormtail was watching him with his mouth open. Every time James made a particularly difficult catch, Wormtail gasped and applauded. After five minutes of this, Harry wondered why James didn't tell Wormtail to get a grip on himself, but James seemed to be enjoying the attention. [OotP 28]

peter is set up as someone who's understood by everyone not to occupy the same role in society [both "society" as in the social ecosystem of hogwarts, and as in wizarding society more generally] as james and sirius.

this is almost certainly for class and blood-status related reasons - and hello to another anon on this point:

the fact that the only parent mentioned in the text is his mother strongly suggests that he's a half-blood with a muggle or muggleborn father [which his narrative parallels with snape, his narrative relationship with voldemort, and his narrative contrast with barty crouch jr. also support].

the way his mother is spoken about by other characters in prisoner of azkaban - especially fudge: "black was taken away by twenty members of the magical law enforcement squad and pettigrew received the order of merlin, first class, which i think was some comfort to his poor mother" [PoA 10] - sets her up as the passive figure in her relationship to the state [the ministry deigns to provide her with comfort], thus implying that she was ordinary, middle-class, and respectable, but lacked the class-based social power to occupy a more active role in the relationship.

[contrast her, for example, with someone like augusta longbottom, who is a much more active figure narratively.]

but she also can't come from a working-class background, because otherwise voldemort wouldn't seek to humiliate peter by making him live in snape's slum house as his servant.

but peter is also set up as someone who - while he accepts that james and sirius are his superiors and doesn't want to usurp their positions - nonetheless thinks that the two of them will do all they can to increase his chances of helping them accrue more glory, thus allowing the glory he shares in to be all the greater.

and why not? after all, he has plenty of evidence that they'd be capable of doing this, given the lengths they go to for remus…

i think he can be very easily understood as somebody who thinks that - once the three of them have nailed the animagus transformation and achieved their goal of supporting remus during the full moon - then the next thing on james and sirius' list of priorities is putting in a similar level of effort on his behalf.

indeed, the text does imply this - in snape's worst memory, peter goes from being positioned with remus as james and sirius' inferior:

Snape was on his feet again, and was stowing the O.W.L. paper in his bag. As he emerged from the shadows of the bushes and set off across the grass, Sirius and James stood up. Lupin and Wormtail remained sitting.

to being physically positioned with remus but clearly wanting to be an active member of james and sirius' shenanigans:

Lupin was still staring down at his book, though his eyes were not moving and a faint frown line had appeared between his eyebrows. Wormtail was looking from Sirius and James to Snape with a look of avid anticipation on his face. [...] Wormtail was on his feet now, watching hungrily, edging around Lupin to get a clearer view.

to physically joining - but still being excluded from equality of power with - james and sirius:

"How'd the exam go, Snivelly?" said James. "I was watching him, his nose was touching the parchment," said Sirius viciously. "There'll be great grease marks all over it, they won’t be able to read a word."   Several people watching laughed; Snape was clearly unpopular. Wormtail sniggered shrilly. 

to being positioned as sirius' equal under james' leadership:

"Well," said James, appearing to deliberate the point, "it's more the fact that he exists, if you know what I mean..." Many of the surrounding watchers laughed, Sirius and Wormtail included.

to being included as both james and sirius' equal:

But too late; Snape had directed his wand straight at James; there was a flash of light and a gash appeared on the side of James' face, spattering his robes with blood. James whirled about; a second flash of light later, Snape was hanging upside down in the air, his robes falling over his head to reveal skinny, pallid legs and a pair of greying underpants. Many people in the small crowd watching cheered. Sirius, James, and Wormtail roared with laughter. [OotP 28]

but this symbolic ascent towards james and sirius recognising and including him isn't what actually comes to pass, is it?

[and as a little shipping-related aside... this is an immaculate wormbucks or padtail premise.]

clearly, peter's experience from the beginning of his sixth year onwards [so from the autumn of 1976] is one in which his hero-worship of james and sirius [and it is just james and sirius - if he felt aggrieved enough by remus that he wanted to implicate him in the potters' deaths he absolutely could have done so] begins to crumble...

and then to fester...

until he's reached a point where the following isn't something he believes is actually true:

"THEN YOU SHOULD HAVE DIED!" roared Black. "DIED RATHER THAN BETRAY YOUR FRIENDS, AS WE WOULD HAVE DONE FOR YOU!" [PoA 19]

[this - as an aside - is one of the major differences between harry and james/sirius. harry's understanding of loyalty and sacrifice is much less transactional: "dumbledore knew, as voldemort knew, that harry would not let anyone else die for him now that he had discovered it was in his power to stop it" [DH 34].]

and decides that he should probably transfer his loyalties to the much bigger bully who's just arrived on the scene.

enter lord voldemort.

peter the death eater

while there are some key differences [peter is the one who has to approach voldemort, rather than the other way round, and - as i've said here - i think voldemort withholds the dark mark from him to keep him striving], peter's recruitment by the death eaters has a huge amount in common with draco malfoy's.

[more on which... here.]

voldemort must win him over by validating his belief that james and sirius [and also dumbledore/the order] don't take him and his talents seriously, that they need to be punished for this, and that when peter has humiliated them, he will have the time of his life basking in the glow of the victorious voldemort, who will also reward him spectacularly.

this is what voldemort does with quite a few of his minions - including regulus [another fantastic ship for peter], barty crouch jr. [likewise], and, of course, snape [which flops], all of whom have that corrosive perception of themselves as always being overlooked.

in the first war, then, voldemort must be pretty nice to him.

[or as nice as voldemort ever gets...]

the threats and the punishment come later.

[as another aside, the implication of canon is that voldemort's use of violence against his minions is relatively infrequent - and only used in specific circumstances - in the first war. the egregious torture he subjects them to in the second - and the fact that he does this publicly - shocks, terrifies, and humiliates even the most ardent first war loyalists. i think we can assume, then, that peter returned to voldemort expecting to find him in the same "you catch more flies with honey" mode as in the first war. he was mistaken.]

the contempt 90s!voldemort holds peter in is iconic - so many of his best lines are times he's mocking him!

but something which always stands out to me is that voldemort's contempt for peter is inextricably linked to his previous position as one of the four marauders.

[indeed, i find it fascinating that voldemort says that peter "faked his own death to escape justice" [DH 33], because the only thing he can mean by "justice" in this context is that peter should have let sirius murder him...]

and the most explicit demonstration of this is the fact that he always calls him wormtail.

this is a fascinating twist on the way voldemort plays with the language of intimacy with his death eaters. his favourites get referred to by their given names, while the rest are referred to more formally, using their surnames:

"Severus, here," said Voldemort, indicating the seat on his immediate right. "Yaxley - beside Dolohov." [DH 1]

and, of course, his ultimate favourite gets referred to by her nickname.

but peter isn't being called wormtail by the dark lord as a show of affection... it's an expression of disregard.

it's clear that the voldemort of the second war deeply understands that peter's life between the potters' deaths and his unmasking at the end of prisoner of azkaban [that is, the period when he didn't get the glory he wanted, he just got a dead james, two friends who want to murder him, and a master who hates him] made him start to regret his resentment of james and sirius for not living up to the versions of themselves he'd invented in his head - especially following sirius' death, when he receives a second demonstration of voldemort's contempt for him, since the moment sirius is out of the picture, the dark lord declares him surplus to requirements and dumps him on snape.

voldemort also knows that peter can only suppress these regrets and pretend they don't exist for so long...

and so everything about their second war relationship is voldemort pre-empting a betrayal he knows will come, when peter's long-buried grief for his friends comes roaring back. hence him setting up peter's silver hand to kill him when his loyalty wavers.

or, more succinctly:

"You returned to me, not out of loyalty, but out of fear of your old friends. You deserve this pain, Wormtail. You know that, don't you?" [DH 33]

peter the [un]man

there's one final thing which i think is really interesting about peter's portrayal in the text, and that's his relationship with gender.

he's someone whose presentation as unmasculine is consistent across his appearances - and is consistently intended to be belittling. but he's also someone whose lack of masculinity is used both to underscore his villainy [and to emphasise that it's the worst type of villainy - to quote jkr, "i loathe a traitor"; peter is the most reprehensible villain in the doylist text's eyes] and to misdirect the reader away from it.

before he's unmasked at the end of prisoner of azkaban, peter is associated narratively with neville:

A hatred such as he had never known before was coursing through Harry like poison. He could see Black laughing at him through the darkness, as though somebody had pasted the picture from the album over his eyes. He watched, as though somebody was playing him a piece of film, Sirius Black blasting Peter Pettigrew (who resembled Neville Longbottom) into a thousand pieces. [PoA 11]

and - therefore - is associated with a lack of masculinity in a fond way. neville is a character the reader is supposed to like, but not a character the reader is supposed to aspire to be like.

the text uses both peter and neville's appearance - especially the fact that both of them are noted to be fat [neville gets described as "plump", which is understood as slightly more polite, but the meaning is the same...] - to emphasise this. they're soft and shy and unsporty. they're passive, in contrast to harry [and james'] masculine vigour. they're both followers, but in a good way.

or, they both occupy the role female characters tend to: conduits for the male characters' deeds and desires, but lacking the agency to have deeds and desires of their own.

[hence why i am extremely compelled by @whinlatter's theory that the best lightning-gen parallel for peter is ginny...]

this is the tone of the secret keeper swap. peter is chosen by james and sirius precisely because they understand him as a vessel. he can contain and surround and envelope the potters and keep them safe that way, while sirius - who embodies the active qualities of a masculine protector - protects them by fighting and running and being hunted.

but - of course - peter doesn't perform this feminine protector role. he corrupts it. and this another way the text underscores that he's its worst villain... he bastardises a role typically associated with motherhood.

he and sirius are set up narratively as the parallel to james and lily: sirius is the masculine figure, the father, the "take harry and run"; peter is the feminine, the mother, the "refuses to stand aside".

once peter is unmasked at the end of prisoner of azkaban and his corruption of his maternal role is revealed, the text's presentation of his unmanliness then becomes something used to emphasise how vile and creepy the reader is supposed to find him.

it does this while maintaining the corrupted motherhood metaphor - hence him having to nurse voldemort's pseudo-infant form in goblet of fire, and hence him being positioned as inferior to barty crouch jr., who joins voldemort and peter, his "wife", to take the narrative role of voldemort's son and heir.

this is extremely interesting, since the text typically uses a lack of maternal or pseudo-maternal experience to indicate that its female villains [especially bellatrix and umbridge] are to be understood as villains by the reader. the exceptions, petunia dursley and walburga black, are fascinating parallels for peter, given the way that they also embody the corrosiveness of resentment and the impact it has on truly being able to grieve.

but peter also becomes a second, specific form of unman once he's unmasked...

the eunuch.

it's really striking that - from the latter chapters of prisoner of azkaban onwards - peter is frequently associated with the theme of voyeurism:

But Ron was staring at Pettigrew with the utmost revulsion. "I let you sleep in my bed," he said. [PoA 19]

Snape held up a hand to stop her, then pointed his wand again at the concealed staircase door. There was a loud bang and a squeal, followed by the sound of Wormtail scurrying back up the stairs. "My apologies," said Snape. "He has lately taken to listening at doors, I don't know what he means by it." [HBP 2]

the sexual undertone to these associations is really significant, because - when combined with the presentation of peter as a follower/an outsider looking in and with the presentation of him as lacking in virility - it renders him sexless, but in a specifically jealous way. he's not voldemort, whose canon presentation as aromantic is used to underscore his villainy by implying there's something "wrong" with him... he's someone who should have been able to access the "normal" structures of love and family, but who has self-castrated himself from this "normality" due to his corruption arc, and who is forced to watch from the sidelines coveting what others have and regretting his decisions and loathing himself.

[hence my absolute conviction that the reason he's not at home on halloween 1981, when sirius goes to check on him and finds his safe-house empty, is because he's snuck into the potters' house in rat form to watch james and lily be murdered...]

and this idea of peter as somebody unsexed or castrated is really interesting as a lens to examine one of his most sinister moments - his role in the torture and murder of bertha jorkins.

nb: there is a discussion of rape in what follows.

i liked this post by @pangaeaseas - and the discussion in the notes -about voldemort's treatment of peter surrounding his capture of bertha jorkins. but i thought it was interesting how a lot of this discussion focused on the ways voldemort is insulting peter's intellect in this context... and not the ways he's attacking his sexual prowess.

the text is pretty clear - not least in the enormous victim-blaming undertone to the way many characters [especially male ones] talk about bertha's disappearance - that peter brought bertha to voldemort after convincing her that he wanted to engage in some form of consensual sexual encounter [described by voldemort, in pg-13 terms, as a "nighttime stroll"]. voldemort's astonishment at peter managing to accomplish this isn't so much him being shocked that he had the way with words/quick thinking abilities to talk bertha into going with him, it's him being shocked that someone he considers to be so unmanly as to be impotent managed to pull.

and then - it is heavily implied, both in the text itself and in jkr's statements since publication that her editor looked like she wanted to be sick when she described how voldemort was restored to a rudimentary body - to rape:

"He was the penis able-bodied servant I needed, and, eunuch poor wizard though he is, Wormtail was able to violate a woman follow the instructions I gave him, which would return me to a rudimentary, weak body of my own, a body I would be able to inhabit while awaiting the essential ingredients for true rebirth." [GoF 33]

[panthrnoir]

ROUND 2 !

pairing: military!steve rogers x wife!reader

genre: smut, fluff

warnings: manhandling, full nelson, overstim, oral(fem receiving), fingering, slight degradation

summary: it’s been a year since you’ve seen your husband and he just got home, but he’s so much taller and bigger. his new body makes your mind go wild and wonder what new things he can do now.

notes: i’m watching captain america:the first avenger and steve rogers looks so fine i HAD to write something. and i had to keep splitting up paragraphs because tumblr said they were too long…also this takes place back in 1943. DADDY’S HOME

life has been so lonely & boring since steve left for war. now all you left have of him is some of his clothes and small pictures of him and you spread around the house. going to bed alone felt painful enough so you slept with his picture next to you sometimes. it was especially hard when you felt needy and no one was there but your pillow. you were thinking about asking your neighbor, who always flirts with you any chance they get, for help but you could never cheat on steve, not after how sweet he is to you. it’s was getting late so you headed downstairs to make yourself dinner. you made alfredo for yourself and prepared a plate. you took a seat at your dining take and stared at the picture of your husband. every night, you pray he’s still alive and comes back home soon. suddenly you hear a knock at the front door. your eyes dart up in panic, you don’t want to get your hopes up and think he’s finally home but rarely anyone visits you unless it’s a friend & your friends never show up at 10PM. you slowly arise from your chair and walk to the door. before your nervous hand reaches the door, you hear a click and the door slowly opens.

“steve, is that you?” you ask peeking from being the door. it’s dark outside so you can’t see his face, but you can see his silhouette. the man is tall & buff, and you can’t stop staring at his biceps. he starts to walk towards you slowly as you step away from him. once you both are under the light, his face is more clearer and you realize your husband is finally home. “did you miss me?” he says softly as places his hand on your waist and pulls you towards him. your at a loss of words and embrace him into a hug. for the first time, you weren’t on the same level as him. “what happened to you? i knew you’d look a little bigger after war but this is completely different!” you have so many questions but your honestly trying to stop yourself from smothering his handsome face with kisses, and something else. “it’s a long story, but my only focus is you”he sweet talks, which makes your heart flutter and his words go right to your core. “well if you’re hungry, i made-”you start before he gently pushes you against the island in the kitchen and kisses you with his soft lips. the way he was kissing made you feel like you were having your first kiss. the first you both kisses, you kisses him first and you could easily reach his lips, but it felt so different this time because you had to get on your toes to reach him, nearly having to jump. chris trapped you between his muscular arms and held you in place as he kissed you. the more he held you there, the more you felt your arousal build higher & higher. you felt him slowly glide his hands down your waist and tug on the waistband of your pajamas pants. you break away from the kiss and look at him in shock. “where did all this confidence come from, last time we tried to have sex, you could barely get it up last time and you were just so nervous”you mocked but he just smiled at you with pure lust in his eyes. “trust me, i’m not that guy anymore sweetheart, and now that i’m back i’ll give you all the love you’ve been needing this time”he murmured. before you argue back, chris’s hand is creeping into your panties and starts rubbing slow circles onto your pussy. the sudden feeling makes your legs feel weak and your lips fall open. you can’t help but feel chris’s eyes peering at you, “does this feel good?”he asks after he slides his fingers inside but you barely processes what he’s saying to you because you’re so caught up in this pleasure you’ve never experienced so you just eagerly nod. before he fully fulfills your needs, he picks you up over his shoulder and walks up the stairs. the loss of his fingers make you whine and you clench around nothing. “shh, i’ll let you finish once we get to the bedroom” he whispers.

he holds you in place on his shoulder with his arm and pushes open the door with his other. he tosses you onto the bed before he takes off his shirt. his chest and his abs make you stare in awe, he’s so strong and firm now that he’s back from the war. “are you gonna take off your clothes or do i have to do that for you too while you stare at me?”his words make you get out of head and you scramble to take off clothes. now you just left with your panties on and sitting on the bed with your knees to your chest. he climbs over to you on the bed and gently pushes you back. once he pulls your soaked panties down & throws them next to your pile of clothes, he pulls you closer to him and spreads your legs open, “no need to be shy, i see you’re not the only one that misses me” he says before placing a kiss on your pussy. feeling his lips on you makes you squirm but chris’s firm hands are holding you in place. his lips start making out with your cunt and you can’t help but whine. you were so shocked how good he was making you feel you wondered how his dick would feel inside you. chris wanted you to sound even more louder as he felt your hips slowly rocking against his face so his licks got more sloppier and wet. the amount of pleasure made your back arch and your thighs tried to close but his big hands held your legs in place. “s-steve, i’m g-gonna-”you cried and he picked up his pace at your words. “mhm, c’mon” he hummed against you and the vibrations from his lips make your tummy feel warm and sends you over the edge, making you squirt against his face. you don’t even realize you squirted before you sit up against your elbows & notice the smile on his face with your juices all over his chin. “oh chris, i’m sorry i’ve never done that before i-”you panic before apologizing but chris cuts you. “don’t apologize, i’m planning on making you do that again, but this time with my dick” he interrupts and take his pants off. as soon as his boxers come off, his cock springs free and stands tall against his toned abs. “on your hands and knees, facing the headboard”he instructs and do as he says while your thighs still quivered.

“can you feel that?” he whispers as he nudges his tip against hole. he knows you can’t answer since he’s pushing your head into the pillow under you but the size of his dick makes you gulp. you feel the big stretch as he slowly pushes his cock inside you and before you can feel any pain, he drops a hand down and rubs your clit so you can still feel pleasure. once he finds his rhythm in his thrusts, he slowly picks up the pace. the only thing being heard inside the room is the sound of your soaked pussy squelching around him. all this pleasure makes your tummy feel tingly and like it’s going to explode. “n-ngh i c-can’t take it, s’too much!”you complain but he only goes faster. his thrusts are getting so rough, he almost knocks you off the bed. you try to grab & hold on to the sheets to get away from from the overstimulation but steve notices and pulls you up against his chest & wraps his bicep around your neck, putting you in a chokehold. “c’mon you can’t get away from me yet, i just got you back” he coos as you paw against his thick bicep. he’s not choking you enough to hurt you or make you pass out, it’s only enough to make you cough and makes you moan even louder if you move too much. soon enough he’s moving his hips as fast as he can against your ass. there’s nothing else you can do but sit there and take his cock deep inside your tummy as whimpers fall fast your lips. chris places a warm hand on your tummy and rubs it, “can you see that, there’s a bulge inside of you”he says but your brain is all fuzzy and your so cockdrunk you don’t hear what he’s saying. all you’re physically capable of doing is nodding. your so overstimulating and dizzy, his cock is making you see stars. chris feels your legs shaking and your hole fluttering around him and he starts to rub your clit. all the attention on your clit makes whine and even shred a couple tears because it’s feel like it’s so much. once he starts rubbing your nipples, you feel yourself gushing all over his cock. you whine from the relief before he unwraps his arm from around your neck and lets your body fall forward & relax against the bed. the release leaves you panting and struggling to catch your breathe. he starts to rub your back before throwing the covers over you as he watching you shiver. “i’m right here, let me know if you need anything,” he says as he scoots under the covers and cuddles your fucked out body. “and don’t underestimate me again or i’m not going easy on you next time sweetheart” he warns as you drift off to sleep from exhaustion.

[shokopan]

SHUT UP! . S. GETO ⤷ high school!geto x reader, fluff, shoko ult wingwoman, gojo is a menace, geto is hot. 1.3k (wtf this was supposed to b so short n silly)

“i’m blocking suguru,” you announce to your roommate, “i need to block this man. expeditiously, actually,”

“ok first, sit down,” shoko instructs, hiding her snicker as she watches you flop over her bed, “second, what happened?”

“this man. this evil, evil man decided to text me ‘i miss you’ while he’s gone. who the fuck does that? what is wrong with him? why would say something as evil as that?” you groan, flipping over and burying your face into your arms.

“wait, wait, that’s bad?” shoko frowns, rhythmically patting your back as you lift your head and scrunch up your face.

“yeah, it’s terrible. absolutely disgusting. honestly? might be the worst thing he’s ever decided to do,” you lament dramatically, “putting the idea that he misses me in his brain. what do you mean you miss me? acting like you like me or something when you’re not allowed to, the fuck?”

shoko sighs, “you know there’s nothing barring you guys from actually dating, right?

“no, i know, i’m just being dramatic and hateful right now,” you mutter, “ugh, but like also what if we break up and our friend group also gets affected? what if you or gojo decide it’s weird?”

“i feel like you have no faith in gojo and i,” shoko rolls her eyes before pausing, “actually scratch that, never have faith in gojo,”

“truer words have never been spoken,” you giggle as shoko nods and continues, “but like there’s no weird ass notion in our group that nothing romantic can ever happen and we all have to take some purity oath or swear each other off. especially not when you two basically act like, you know. and besides, geto already kinda talked to gojo and i about it, for no actual good reason by the way,”

“but us four have such a good dynamic alrea– wait did you say he asked? like asked you guys about us dating? he what?” you blink, staring expectantly at shoko as she purses her lips with shallow guilt.

“um, so anyways,” shoko gives you an awkward grin, “they’re coming back tonight so, you know, yeah,”

“so he’s asked,” you press further, sitting up now. a million thoughts run through your head, conflicted over your best friend and where the two of you stand, “so he means it? fuck, like he’s serious?”

“yeah, why wouldn’t he be?” shoko questions, “isn’t this a good thing?”

“it is,” you admit, “i’m just, fuck, i don’t know. i’m just worried about nothing probably. fuck, he just texted and said he’s at the station now. what do i do?”

“make out with him or something, i don’t know,” shoko offers unhelpfully.

“thanks for the suggestion, i’ll keep that in mind,” you reply, unimpressed, “i should probably go get him from the station, right?”

“yup, please leave the room so i can take a quick nap thank youu,” shoko smiles, feigning complete innocence and kindness after suggesting that you kick yourself out of the room.

“fuck, ok, i’m going now. i’ll talk to him. it’ll be fine. everything’s going to be good. this is a good idea. ok!” you psych yourself up, fussing over your appearance briefly in the mirror before standing up straight, “i’m off,”

“good luck! and call me if you guys get food so you can bring me back some! i’m gonna nap and won’t see your text!” shoko waves, slipping into her bed and pulling the covers over herself as you step out of the room.

you rush off the jujutsu tech campus as a pace one could barely describe as a walk. your legs rapidly propel you forward in a beeline towards the station, mind completely focused on getting to the closest entrance near the bakery that you guys would always enter and exit at as you go on autopilot mode, walking faster, and faster, and faster until you see him.

suguru exits the station alone, with gojo abandoned somewhere in the station marveling at the little stalls of desserts. he’s dressed in his deep navy jujutsu uniform, with one hand tucked into his pocket and the other holding onto a duffel bag. his hair’s still in the same updo you adore, with loose, unkempt strands splaying from all over, likely due to him napping on the train back.

you momentarily pause your furious strides to just watch suguru, in slight awe and abandoned self consciousness. he’s there. it’s him.

once suguru finally looks up, his face breaks into a friendly grin as he removes his hand from his pocket to wave at you, and you instinctively mirror him. when he makes his way over to you though, your breath hitches and reality resumes.

“hey y/n! what’re you doing here?” he pulls you into a hug once he reaches you, and you can only feeble return it, delicately patting his side as he glances down at you, “what’s up? i missed y-“

“shut up,” you groan, “shut up shut up shut up don’t say that,”

“and why should i?” he frowns, confused by your sudden shift in attitude, “is there something wrong with me missing my better half?”

“god yes, it’s shit like that that you say so easily,” you continue, trying to push yourself out of the hug that suguru now has you trapped in as you refuse to make eye contact with him even though his pointed stare nearly burns into the back of your head, “makes me think too much about stuff,”

“me missing you makes you nervous?” suguru muses, frown dissipating as he catches onto the heavy beating of your heart, “me wanting to be around you makes you feel something?”

“i hate you,” is all you can muster as he lets out a soft laugh.

“i miss you y/n, i miss my better half,” he smiles, “now are you gonna look at me so i can properly confess?”

you stop fidgeting and finally glance up at suguru to see a warm, kind smile gracing his face. any sign of teasing or mirth has vanished, and all you can see is suguru’s feelings being worn on his sleeve, his face, everything.

“hi suguru,” you whisper when your eyes meet. even amidst the nearly empty sidewalks, the two of you keep everything shielded away from the world.

“hi beautiful,” suguru whispers back, “i like you,”

“i like you too,” you quickly respond. the words strangely don’t feel scary to say. instead it feels natural, like a statement you’ve known long to be true.

“good,” he nods, “i’m glad. really glad, actually,”

“yeah?” you smile, “why’s that?”

“because now i feel more confident asking you to get dinner with me,” he hums, “as a date and hopefully as your boyfriend,”

“hmm, i guess maybe you can take me out,” you grin, “you wanna be my boyfriend?”

“yes,” he breathes, “more than anything,”

you reach your hand out, a little hesitant at first before letting your fingers rest against suguru’s jaw, pausing for confirmation that you instantly get as his eyes glance down to your lips. you pull him in for a brief, sweet kiss and once the two of you break the kiss, you finally respond, “you’ve got the job suguru,”

"good," he grins, kissing you again, "i'll do the best fucking job at being your boyfriend then,"

BONUS SCENE

“EWWW ARE THEY FUCKING KISSING? OUT HERE? IN PUBLIC? WHERE CHILDREN CAN SEE? WHERE I CAN SEE? HAVE SOME DECENCY!” gojo gasps, scandalized by the sight as he shields his eyes dramatically while shoko elbows him.

“can you shut up and let them have a moment?” shoko hisses, rolling her eyes as she contemplates the likelihood of success if she were to attempt to murder the egregiously tall (and annoying) man standing next to her.

“i am! that’s why i’m hiding behind the stairs here with you and not out there with them,” gojo reminds shoko kindly, “aren’t i just such a kind, amazing, and considerate friend?”

“no you’re an ass,” shoko grumbles, “anyways you owe me a meal because them finally getting together happened because i told y/n that liked them,”

“huh?”

“oops sorry geto, but also you're welcome! and good job y/n for taking my advice!"